


Under the Radar

by lilien passe (lilienpasse)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, M/M, Male Friendship, semi-au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 214,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilienpasse/pseuds/lilien%20passe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks after Asahi rejoins the team, Noya finds himself starting to slip during practice. Missed receives, floor burns, the whole nine yards. But when Tanaka points out the possible cause, Noya's hard-pressed to believe him. There's no way someone as dopey yet implausibly-competent as Asahi could be the cause of all his distress. After all, Noya doesn't worry about much beyond the court, and he certainly doesn't hold grudges. Right? (Semi-AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve fallen hard for AsaNoya and I really only have myself and my friends to blame. I’ve been having a stressful time so this is just a de-stress fun fic for me in between working on other more serious things (like inadvertent misdemeanors which I promise I’m working on).
> 
> Also there’s a woeful lack of information about the boys’ home lives so I’m making shit up. If something is canonically wrong feel free to tell me but yeah I’m mostly just making it up for fun. I like to speculate.

Noya propped his chin up on the hardwood floor, blinking sweat out of his eyes. His teeth clacked together whenever someone fell or dove or landed from a jump, but he was too exhausted to care. Morning practice, lunch training, and then extended evening practice. 

Shit was rough. Even for him. 

He’d made a pact with himself that he’d only stay still as long as no one was watching him. And right now the pixie wunderkind and control tower were at the center of everyone’s attention. Like they should be. They were discussing attack approaches, and the squeak of trainers against the polished wood floor reverberated through the open space.

The floor rumbled underneath Noya’s chin, the cadence familiar, and then a worried voice whispered to him.

“Nishinoya? Are you all right?”

Noya immediately rolled onto his back, grinning widely. Of all the people to lose face in front of. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and flashed a thumbs up.

“Never better, Asahi.” He laughed and patted the floor. “Just trying to get more in touch with my domain.”

Asahi gave him a confused look but then his usual dopey smile returned and he nodded, standing up straight again.

“We’re moving on to serve receives,” he said, holding out one of his large hands. “It’s your time to shine.”

“You know it!” Noya said cheerfully, letting himself get yanked to his feet so quickly that he left the floor for a few milliseconds. Asahi didn’t seem to notice; just gave him a little wave and jogged back towards the net.

Noya rolled his shoulder, grimacing slightly. Asahi didn’t know his own strength. It was one of his endearing character traits. He was more wet-mop than human sometimes, but humility was something he had in spades. Almost too many spades.

Noya watched Asahi get into position, wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to command such a huge physical presence. Big enough not to get a dislocated shoulder just from a teammate helping you up. Reaching the top shelf anywhere. Not getting mistaken for a lost child at the supermarket.

Weird to think there was an entire world of difference existing just above his head. How odd everything must look.

On the other side of the net, Kageyama was first in line to serve and Noya relaxed a bit. Easy return. Kageyama had a habit of serving to the back right. His little kingdom. He barely needed to move.

Once the ball was in the air and his job was done, Noya’s mind began to drift. His body worked on autopilot when he was tired. Get to the ball. That single thought was enough to rule his consciousness, and he gladly let it take the reins. Sometimes it meant nearly clotheslining himself on another player’s arm when they got in his way, but whatever. Crushed vocal chords were a small price to pay.

Every so often, though, he found his eyes wandering to the giant in front of the net. He was talking with Tsukishima, helping him with his blocking form. Tsukishima for his part didn’t look as pissed as usual, although he didn’t seem to be paying much attention either. Shame. Kid’s return was a bit sloppy; he could use any and all advice.

“Noya!”

Noya jumped, spotting the ball before it was almost too late. He had to dive for it, his forearm skidding painfully across the floor. But up it went into the air, high enough to be dealt with. Job done.

The whistle blew and Ryū padded over to him, a grimace tugging at his mouth.

“Shit,” he said sympathetically, grabbing Noya’s arm to examine it. “Got yourself good on that last one.”

“Not the first skin I’ve left behind on the court,” Noya laughed, hopping up and dusting himself off. The pain was helping him keep his mind where it belonged.

He returned the high five the tiny pixie child gave him, but when Hinata started talking a mile a minute to Ryū his eyes crossed the court again, the move as instinctual as his dive had been. 

Asahi was talking with his fellow third years, laughing at something Suga had said. Noya listened to their speech, the casualness of it tugging at something in his chest. It was so easy with people in your own grade. He and Ryū got along great. Their personalities helped, but not having to watch tone or language, being able to erase distance with a nickname, a clipped word.

Didn’t hurt.

“Noya?”

“Huh? Yes! Yes,” Noya said quickly, turning back to the little group around him. Ryū was staring at him with one eyebrow raised but then said, “We’re gonna grab a bite at the shop. You in?”

Noya had to snap his head back again. Fuck, where was his brain going when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Sure,” he said quickly. Anything to keep the conversation moving. “Just lemme deal with this.” He gestured to his arm.

Kageyama let out a sympathetic hiss and Hinata’s eyes widened.

“Whoa…” the kid said slowly. “So even someone as talented as Noya can get hurt that badly...”

“Anyone can get hurt, idiot,” Kageyama said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m counting the days until your femur snaps in half.”

“Wh—Kageyama, you asshole!”

Kageyama walked over to the net to start tear down, dodging Hinata’s swipes and jeering at whatever the smaller boy said.

A tap to his shoulder made Noya glance up to find Ryū staring down at him. He pointed to his arm.

“Someone needs to say it. This is a rarity,” he said, one eyebrow slowly snaking up to his distant hairline. “The fuck, Noya. You never space out on the job.”

Noya shrugged and then said idly, “It’s not my fault. My brain starts to wander. Kageyama’s serves are predictable. Someone needs to work on that with him.” He grinned at Ryū. “Not you.”

“What – oh, hilarious,” Ryū muttered, but he rubbed his shoulder and looked a bit chagrined. “Just go get that disinfected, would you. I’m starved.”

“You got it,” Noya said cheerfully, jogging towards the exit. First aid kit… Shimizu had one, but she was talking to Teach. Plus he didn’t really want to bother her for something so lame… She’d probably stare at him with her big Bambi eyes and he didn’t need to feel less in control of his body just right then.

His steps slowed as he passed the third years, not wanting to eavesdrop but as always curious about what was going on. For reasons. Serious expressions all around. Never good.

Conversation slowed to a halt when he approached.

Worse.

Asahi had averted his eyes, but the other two third years offered him a smile.

“That was a hard fall at the end there, Noya,” Daichi said, giving him a slap on the back that dislocated three vertebra. “Glad to know you’ve still got that suicidal discipline.”

“Dai, stop that,” Suga chided, giving the captain a pointed look. “It’s dedication, although Noya, you… ah…” He trailed off awkwardly, exchanging glances with the other two. Or Daichi, at least. Asahi was still looking steadfastly away.

Suga cleared his throat and then said gently, “You seemed a bit off today. And your injury…”

Noya glanced down at his arm and then back up at the setter.

“You mean my floor burn?” he said, clicking his tongue. “Fuc—I mean, darn, everyone’s making such a big deal out of it. But I promise, Suga, it’s not a big deal!” He waved his arm around, a grin on his face. “See! Perfectly serviceable, no worries!”

Suga rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well I’m glad to hear that, but it’s more… how you got it,” he said slowly.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Daichi took over, clapping Suga on the shoulder to get him to stop attempting speech. “We’ve got a lot riding on our shoulders this year. Not to pressure you any more than we already do – and I know you take your job seriously – but for us, it’s our last chance.” He glanced at Asahi. “Right, Azumane?”

“Eh? Oh…” Asahi tugged at his shirt and cleared his throat. “I think Nishinoya’s doing a good job,” he said quietly, still not making eye contact with anything under six feet. “Today was just an abnormality.”

Noya stared at Asahi, recognizing the little signs of a lie. He was too easy to read, and Daichi and Suga’s surprised expressions only confirmed it.

Noya’s temper started to flare, but he kept it under control. Miraculously. The burn helped.

“I’d bet anything that two minutes ago you were singing a different tune,” he said as neutrally as he could. “I can take critique, Asahi, you know that.” Just please… please god, he didn’t want to get into another yelling match with Asahi. Not about something so stupid.

“You work harder than anyone,” Asahi said immediately, finally making eye contact. For all the good it did. He looked away a blink later. “And – it’s okay. We all have our off days.”

“It’s been an off week at this point,” Daichi said, his rough features even sterner than usual. “We can’t perform without you, Noya. Not at our best.”

Guilt decided to settle in at that point. It was the only thing stilling Noya’s tongue.

“I know,” he said firmly, his fingers tightening around his arm. “I’m sorry. I’m – I, uh.” 

He blinked, suddenly, realizing that… no. He didn’t know. Had he really been spacing that badly? He mentally counted the number of balls he’d missed. In the single digits all week, every practice. Or nearly, anyway. Normal…

…So what was everyone else seeing?

He realized that Suga and Daichi were staring at him expectedly, and he quickly said, “I’m probably not getting enough calories or something! I’ll fix that, don’t worry. Tip top shape again as soon as possible.”

Daichi and Suga relaxed a bit at that, and true to form Suga chided, “You need to take care of yourself better, Noya. Case in point…” He glanced down at his arm. Noya bit back a retort. He was already sick of people pointing it out. May as well chop it off to give them something to stare at.

He forced himself to keep smiling though and said firmly, “Of course. I’ll be more careful. I’m sorry to worry everyone.”

He gave a little bow and jogged away before his tongue got ahead of his brain again. As he left, however, he caught a few snippets of Asahi’s deep voice.

“…staring at me all practice. I don’t think he’s over it yet…”

Noya’s steps slowed and he had to dig his fingers into the burn on his arm to keep his temper in check. 

He managed to keep a lid on it until he was alone in the club room, at which point he started cursing a blue streak as he disinfected his arm and wrapped it. Half the curses were from pain, but the other half were most definitely directed at the upper classman.

Cowardly asshole.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since Asahi had returned. To his (as Ryū cheerfully called it) dog brain that was practically years ago. Why the hell would he still be holding a grudge?

Noya froze, the lid of the first aid kit only halfway closed.

Practice today.

He ran through every drill they’d done. A normal mental exercise for him when reviewing plays. The difference being that this time he hadn’t been tracking the ball, its trajectory, its speed. Instead he could recall everything Asahi did. Every approach, the slow quick quick pattern of his feet before he jumped, every missed serve, every block. Like Technicolor.

Noya sat down on the floor, staring at the lockers.

He had been looking at Asahi. Not just looking but fucking eye-stalking the guy the entire practice.

He tugged at his bangs, a bit of unease twisting at him. Creepy. His brain was creepy the way it would fixate on a thing. Get the ball. Foot on the boundary line. Two back steps. Every second it was calculating and intensely focused. 

Apparently this week Asahi had been the target. For whatever perverse reason. His brain was probably still mired in suspicion, that Asahi would revert, would back out, would say something pathetic again about not being good enough and then he’d have all the evidence he needed to counter.

His subconscious was a vindictive asshole.

Noya groaned and let his head thud back against the wall. He tugged at the colored lock of hair again, guilt and unease making the pain a distant throb.

Dammit.

That was the problem with running on instinct.

He let himself brood for a few minutes and then pushed himself to his feet. If he wallowed any longer he’d be as bad as Asahi, or, he suspected, Kageyama when he got into a mood. Kid could sulk, that was for sure.

He jogged back to the gym to help with clean up, but by the time he arrived nearly everything was done. Just watching everyone scrub the floor made him feel lazy, though, so he quickly grabbed a mop and got to work. His eyes scanned the gym, and with a little jolt of irritation he realized he was looking for Asahi. God. Maybe he should just throw in the mental towel and punch him and hope that took out any latent aggression. Although the only thing he’d be able to reach would be the guy’s solar plexus and somehow that just didn’t really satisfy the action movie junkie in him. A punch in the jaw would be a hell of a lot more satisfying. Coupled with some awesome sound effects, a few splatters of blood on the floor for extra drama—

“Noya!”

Noya glanced over his shoulder at Ryū who was waving him over. He lightly jogged back in his friend’s direction, a curious look on his face.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve mopped that area, we’re done,” Ryū said, obviously amused. He clapped him on the shoulder and pushed him inside the supply closet. “Go, go, go. I’m dyin’ of hunger and I wanna get to the shop before the asshole basketball club buys everything good.” He jerked his thumb across the gym to where the first years were gathered. “And I promised we’d treat them. Little shits were too adorable, I couldn’t say no. And they worked hard today.”

“Yeah I guess they did,” Noya said with a little laugh, quickly stowing the mops before hightailing it out of the closet. Suga had insisted on keeping the broken mop because underneath his team mom exterior he was either a sentimental pushover or a sadistic manipulator. Or some terrifying, bastard mix of the two.

Noya headed over to his bag and tugged on his sweats, pleased as hell when the first years slowly congregated around him.

“Is your arm okay, Noya?” Hinata asked worriedly, his big puppy eyes shimmering a bit with admiration. “That last save was difficult, huh?”

“It didn’t look especially bad,” Tsukishima muttered from his gargantuan height. “I probably could have handled it.”

“You could have,” Noya admitted, standing up straight. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling embarrassed now that his earlier irritation was fading. Some libero he was. Cornerstone of defense his ass. He could barely handle a predictable serve. “Just an off day, I guess.”

Kageyama nodded along with the rest, even though he probably hadn’t had an off day in his life. The setter cleared his throat and then mumbled, “Asahi… er, Azumane said I need to work on my serve accuracy. That I kept serving them to you and it was too easy… so. I’m sorry.”

Noya blinked in surprise and stared at Kageyama, blurting out, “Asahi said that?” before he could really stop himself. Kageyama started back, his eyes widening a bit before he nodded.

“Yes. He was a bit… indirect about it, but that was the gist, I believe.”

Noya frowned, struggling to remember. Had Asahi really been paying that close attention? Close enough that he could predict his complaint about the first year’s serves?

Ugh. Whatever.

“Aah, well, that’ll come with experience, I’m sure,” Noya said finally, patting Kageyama’s arm. “I can’t really serve so I know jack shit about them other than how to keep them from hitting the floor. But later. Later! Now is food!”

“Fucking yes,” Ryū groaned, grabbing his bag and practically sprinting towards the door. “You guys are too devoted to the craft, we’d be in here forever.”

Noya laughed and caught up with Ryū, lightly kicking his ass out the door, his momentary worries forgotten. They tossed insults and compliments back and forth the entire way down the hill to the shop, and when they got there the first years were extremely vocal about how grateful they were for the snack. Hinata practically hugged his to his chest before sitting down next to Kageyama to eat. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were, as always, much more subdued, and sat away from the rest of them, Yamaguchi talking quietly and Tsukishima nodding every once in a while.

Ryū leaned back against the counter, a little smile on his face as he silently surveyed the rest of the team. Noya stood next to him, gnawing on a pork bun.

“You really sucked ass today, Noya.”

Noya tensed and glared at Ryū, but his classmate’s expression was serious. Noya felt his cheeks grow hot and he looked away, a heavy scowl on his face.

“It’s like I said. Off day.”

“And you know they’re buying it ‘cause they don’t know you.” Ryū sighed heavily and scratched his head. “Man… you’re a slippery guy underneath the elfish cheer, aren’t you.”

“I don’t think I’m that complicated,” Noya mumbled, twisting the top off his bun and slowly eating it. He stared at the bit of exposed filling, the persistent brooding thoughts trying to worm their way into the defenseless folds of his brain. He could feel Ryū staring at him, which was annoying but permissible, and he ignored the other boy as he worked on slowly getting his thoughts in order. And his arm hurt. Fuck, what a terrible day.

“So. Asahi.”

That made Noya start. He glanced around the shop, expecting for some stupid reason to see his upperclassman there. 

“Huh? What – what about him?” he said automatically, but then Ryū next to him started laughing and he felt his cheeks go red again. He punched Ryū’s shoulder.

“What?!”

“It’s like Pavlov’s dog,” Ryū laughed, holding his sides. “I’ve just gotta drop the guy’s name and you stand to attention. Fuck!”

“Shh – you’re loud! Ukai’s gonna lose it!” Noya hissed, kicking Ryū in the shins. Lightly. The underclassmen were looking at them, but he just grinned and waved them off and they minded their own business again. Ukai didn’t bother looking up from his magazine, thank god.

But that still left Ryū.

Noya shoved a hand in his pocket, sulkily eating the rest of his bun.

“And? So what,” he mumbled, feeling prickly and defensive. Figured his friend would pick up on the exact thing that was causing him anxiety.

“And – well I mean, it’s obvious you’re still pissed, right? I mean he never apologized for leaving,” Ryū mused aloud. “I think Suga’s noticed too, and Daichi’s trying not to. You know he hates drama. Guy can’t even watch it on TV, freaks out, calls me at three in the morning just to bitch about bad decisions fictional characters make.”

“There’s no drama!” Noya protested, polishing off his food so he’d have an excuse to leave if the conversation continued to head in an unwanted direction. “He’s just – it’s back to how it should be. I’m not petty enough to want an apology, and I mean, Asahi walks around looking like he’s just run over someone’s cat all the time anyway. I think an actual apology might kill him.”

“Yeah, he does have the whole perpetual worried Muppet thing going on,” Ryū sighed, cracking his back. “But I dunno, man. He’s still all squirrely about talking to you and shit. Notice how often he puts either me or Suga between you and him during Daichi’s sermons? Guy’s walking on eggshells.”

His eyes narrowed and he fixed Noya with a look that made him take a step back, his hackles raised. Noya stubbornly met his gaze.

“What?”

Ryū tapped the side of his head.

“You know as well as I do, the sport’s a mental game ninety percent of the time,” he said. “Synchronization’s vital. We lose open communication, we’re fucked. Forget about going to nationals. We won’t be able to set foot outside of our ward. And now that protégées one and two have their issues worked out, all that’s left is you and Asahi.”

Noya clicked his tongue and looked away, trying to school his features. He wanted very, very badly to protest, because as loud as he could be and as stubborn and impulsive, he hated digging up what he’d considered buried. It was called emotional suppression and it was unhealthy as fuck and it was why he hadn’t been permanently expelled from every institution.

“I mean, I’m not carrying a grudge or anything, if that’s what you’re implying,” he finally mumbled, staring at the counter so he wouldn’t have to look at Ryū. “Not consciously, anyway. There’s just – you know how in your head when you’re getting to know someone you take the hints they give you and add them to your picture. Like building with Legos or something. So finally after a year or whatever you have something relatively sturdy, pretty good mental Lego-man of the person. But then…”

He sighed and tugged at his hair, feeling sick at the memory.

“Then some day they say something so out of character and weird to you, and you’re suddenly handed this crazy-odd-shaped Lego and expected to be able to fit it in with the rest. But when you try it fucks everything up and the whole thing is ruined. You could sand down the brick and pretend it was never wrong but it would still look weird and feel rough and you’d know you did it…”

He could feel Ryū staring at him and he lifted his head.

“What?”

Ryū rubbed the back of his neck.

“Shit,” he said appreciatively. “I didn’t really think you were capable of metaphors—”

He laughed and dodged a shin-kick from Noya, whose cheeks were red.

“Were you listening at all or were you just biding your time and waiting to whip out that one-liner?” 

“No I got it, I got it!” Ryū said quickly, holding up his hands. “Friends do unexpected stuff sometimes and it’s hard to rectify, right?”

“We’re not friends,” Noya muttered, propping his chin in his hands. “He’s an upperclassman on our team. We’re barely teammates at this point.”

“Well, okay, if you’re going to be all pissy about it, sure,” Ryū said, grabbing his bag and standing. “But I’m pretty sure Asahi wants to be teammates with you again. Guy’s terrified of you, but it’s obvious he respects you. If he didn’t he’d just brush off whatever you say. Instead it’s the opposite. I don’t think he takes anything to heart as much as when you criticize him. Or praise him, I guess, but that’s been a while. And even though it’s hilarious to watch him become visibly crushed whenever you glare at him, you’re kind of putting the team in a shitty situation. If the core of our defense is too busy criticizing the core of our offense and the core of our offense is in a state of near panic because of the core of our defense, I mean. You don’t have to be a genius to know that means our team is going to suck.”

Noya lowered his eyes to the table, his insides squirming with guilt again. Was he really that hard on Asahi? He thought he’d gotten better on swallowing his more impulsive comments…

“It’s not like I mean to glare at him or be too hard on him or whatever,” he mumbled, grabbing his bag as well. “But you know how fucking frustrating it is. Asahi’s… he’s not a genius like Kageyama supposedly is—”

“Or you,” Ryū chimed in, “You can put yourself on a pedestal too, y’know.”

“—or me, fine,” Noya said with a heavy sigh, his ears red from the praise. “But Asahi… when he’s at his best, he’s this unwavering rock. Like Daichi, I guess, but even more solid. The moment he takes off and arches his back and you think ‘damn the guy is going to break himself in half,’ and you hear the slam of his hand against the ball… it’s like… I dunno.” Noya rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “It’s like being a little kid again and getting to see Superman fly. And you know shit’s gonna get rough, but he’s still going to be able to take off. He’ll still win. He has to. After experiencing that unwavering faith… I dunno how people could not get pissed off at the person who took it away. Even if it was Superman himself.”

He let out a little breath and flashed Ryū an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I should stick to falling really fast and sliding around on the floor, I know.”

Ryū was staring at him, his eyes wide and his mouth open slightly. He suddenly closed it with a snap before shaking his head and heading for the door.

“You’ve got a complex, man. Real deep.”

“What – I do not!” Noya protested, jogging after Ryū and waving to the first years as he left the store. Tsukishima might have actually waved back, but for once Noya was too distracted to bother tormenting the giant. Ryū had stopped to wait for him, but there was a look of exasperation on his face.

“Dude, you totally do,” he said bluntly. “I don’t think even Suga would compare Asahi to Superman, and you know he admires the guy more than any of us. Any of us except you, apparently, holy shit.”

“He’s our ace, it’s not unusual to think the ace is cool,” Noya protested, his fingers clutching at his bag a bit too tightly as worry started to set in. Ryū was a great guy, but sometimes he could be too perceptive. And he wasn’t nice enough to hold back his opinions.

“It’s not, but… I dunno.” Ryū scratched his head as he started walking, a frown on his face. He fell uncharacteristically silent, and that alone was enough to freak Noya out a bit. He kicked Ryū gently in the back of the knee, just enough to make him stumble and curse.

“Noya – the hell man, don’t do that!”

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, then,” Noya demanded, his anxiety getting the better of him. Ryū met his gaze and then shrugged before walking again.

“Just thinkin’ that gettin’ older’s weird,” Ryū said absently. “You get all jaded and paranoid and shit, and that… trust you were talkin’ about. It gets harder to hold onto.” He fell quiet for a moment, but then his normal grin returned. He clapped Noya on the shoulder. “Still trust you, though. Out of everyone on the team. You’re special and I appreciate you.”

“Oh my god Ryū!” Noya howled, shoving his friend. Ryū just cackled and dodged out of the way, calling out in a high-pitched voice, “Oh Mr. Noya, you’re so amazing! Let’s go on a trip together for Golden Week!”

Noya hurled his bag at Ryū’s back, laughing triumphantly when it made contact, sending Ryū sprawling. He managed to steal Noya’s bag, though, and played keep-away with it all the way to the main street. It was a welcome distraction, honestly, despite the fact that Ryū could be and was a crazy jackass ninety percent of the time. But when Ryū hopped on his train, leaving Noya to walk home alone, his thoughts finally caught up with him. 

He let out a sigh, feeling a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. A heavy weight, about a hundred eighty five centimeter’s worth.

“God dammit, Ryū,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn’t used to preoccupations, metaphors, feeling anything negative that lasted longer than a few seconds.

There was only one other time, in fact. One other time when he felt sick from his own thoughts, from someone else’s words.

Noya wasn’t a philosopher. He wasn’t a deep thinker, didn’t let himself linger on bad tastes in his mouth because honestly there was so much else good out there. Why waste time reliving bitter melon or natto when there was ice cream and two A.M. ramen and onion potato chips. It was a waste of energy, a waste of a good person when they got stuck like that.

And now here he was.

A waste, with a huge fucking burn on his arm to show for it,

Noya scowled and tightened his grip on his bag, picking up his pace as the streets grew dark. He couldn’t handle one more day of this, of not being himself. Tomorrow after practice. Getting everything out in the open would be good for everyone. Asahi would stammer, apologize too much, and he could go back to being the ace Noya admired without impunity.

Because really, Ryū wasn’t the one he should be damning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that the Haikyuu!! fandom has been so incredibly welcoming and nice to me?! You guys are so awesome. Thank you so, so much for all the nice messages! I hope I can keep writing stuff that catches your interest!
> 
> Part two of this little exploratory fic. Still struggling to get a handle on the characters, but dang are they fun. If you guys have any critique or comments please feel free to send them my way! I could seriously talk about these two for much longer than is strictly necessary. Or probably healthy.

A sharp jab to the back of his head made Noya jolt upright, startled out of his nap. He rubbed the spot and turned to grin warningly at the offender.

“That’s where I keep my brains, you know,” he pointed out. “Poke the wrong part and I might snap and then who knows. Not me ‘cause I won’t have a brain stem left, but it’ll probably be bad. Think Cujo.”

“God – I want whatever you’re on, Noya, I swear,” Ryū snorted, plunking down at the desk in front of Noya’s. He pushed aside the empty lunchbox that Nakamura had left behind and then fixed Noya with a curious stare.

“So napping through lunch is a thing now?”

“Hey I ate it! All of it!” Noya protested, showing Ryū his empty containers. “You can’t tell on me to Suga either. …The nap was a surprise.”

“Well you look beat to hell, so probably shouldn’t have been,” Ryū pointed out, resting his elbows on Noya’s desk. “Insomnia again? I keep telling you, man, Reapers aren’t real.”

“Okay but in my defense they could be – Pluto is really far away, there could be a Mass Relay there!” Noya protested immediately, even as he scrubbed at his dry eyes. “But no, murderous space aliens didn’t keep me up for once. And you know I have an alternate universe scenario that helps me cope with that anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. Watched you play the game, had to live through you yelling at the screen every five seconds and trying to juggle four alien girl slash boyfriends,” Ryū snorted, but there was a curious look on his face. “Just couldn’t sleep in general, then? Worried about regionals?”

“I don’t get worried,” Noya said automatically, leaning back in his chair and glancing out the window. “Just sort of… mulling over what you said yesterday. In a really mature and classy fashion, of course, totally didn’t picture kicking your head a bunch for making me over think, which you know is my third least-favorite activity.”

“What I said – oh.” Ryū let out an exaggerated sigh. “You mean about Asahi? I’m assuming you tuned out everything else I said.”

“I did not – I’m a good listener!” Noya protested, sulking a bit. “But yeah. Asahi. More like how I really don’t want to fuck over the team just because my subconscious can’t let go of a grudge…” He let out a heavy sigh and lowered his head, letting his forehead bang a bit harder than necessary against his desk. “First long-term resentment of my life and it could potentially ruin the last season for our upperclassmen. Why is my brain doing this?” He whimpered quietly and pressed his hands against the sides of his head, lack of sleep and a bit of what normal people probably called ‘mental breakdown’ making his head throb. He’d lain awake staring at the ceiling for hours the night before until he thought he was going to go crazy. No amount of grinding levels in Pokemon or magazine reading had helped. Not even homework had put him to sleep.

“Shit, dude, don’t beat yourself up this bad about it,” Ryū said in alarm, trying to tug his hands away. Noya growled quietly and struggled to keep them where they were, but Ryū pinched him. Noya bolted upright, snapping, “That isn’t fair I hate pinching!”

“And you’re easy to control, like a predictable five-year-old,” Ryū snorted, but his brows were furrowed. “Talk to the guy, okay? After practice today. You’re good at just… vomiting up your opinions. Two seconds of that and Asahi will apologize, combust, and we can sweep up the ashes and rebuild him. Badda bing badda boom.”

“I don’t want to make Asahi combust, though,” Noya said petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not that he would, he’d just sort of crumple, anyway. Or shatter, if you want a more dramatic verb. And last time we had a serious talk that wasn’t just a few words exchanged during a practice match, I got suspended. Which was fine, whatever, but now we have regionals—”

“Oh my god, you single-cell-organism there’s more to life than volleyball,” Ryū groaned. “Worry about getting suspended for better reasons, please. And just – confront him in our presence, then. You know Suga will hold you back if you get too… Noya-ish.”

Noya narrowed his eyes at that, but grudgingly admitted he knew what Ryū meant. And just thinking about talking directly to Asahi was getting him a bit worked up so he said “Okay,” quickly, before he started to rage. “You’re right, you’re usually right, and so am I, I wanted to talk to him earlier but…” He made a frustrated noise and tugged at his hair, unsure how to voice that the thought of hearing Asahi yelling at him again made his chest feel like he’d just been punched. That was probably fear, and he wasn’t a fan. He’d always thought he’d embrace a more “take the bull by the horns” approach when it came to actual real life people with real feelings and real consequences but apparently Asahi wasn’t the only one who had a cowardly streak.

The bell chimed and with a little groan Ryū pushed himself to his feet. He patted Noya on the shoulder.

“Suffer through this, and I’ll buy you ice cream,” he said solemnly.

Noya nodded and gave Ryū a little salute.

“I suffer through this, and you’ll buy me two,” he ordered. 

“Greedy little asshole,” Ryū snorted, but he gave his friend a grin before bounding out of the classroom. Noya waited until he was gone and then sunk down in his chair, staring miserably at the blackboard as his classics teacher came shuffling in and began droning.

Fuck.

Fuck, he didn’t want to do this. It was so much easier to just be spontaneous about emotional confrontations. That way he didn’t have to plan or think or worry about phrasing or how absolutely crushed and miserable Asahi was going to look again. How his stupidly large eyes would widen even more. The way his shoulders would tremble and how he’d clench his fists to try and hide how badly he was shaking from everyone else. Because giants, huge giants of people, weren’t supposed to tremble like cornered rodents. Unable to make eye contact, unable to do anything but stand there and be sliced down to nothing again just because of a stupid, arrogant underclassman—

Noya let out a silent groan and pressed his hands against his face.

He hated having a plan.

And apparently the secret to accelerating time was dreading an impending activity. 

Noya grabbed his bag and headed out the classroom door, the last bell of the day still ringing in his ears. Someone smart had said that, hadn’t they? That time was relative? And usually for him that meant watching the ball slowly hit the floor, just out of reach. It should have been nice to have the opposite applied to class, but instead it just sort of made Noya’s shoes feel like they were filled with concrete.

He ducked his head as he made his way down the hall, dodging his classmates, too prickly to want to come into contact with anything. A mantra was steadily taking shape in his brain. Survive practice, yell at Asahi, feel better, eat ice cream. Four steps. The simpleness of it all cheered him up a bit, and by the time he reached the club room he was feeling more or less himself again. He got changed, chatting with Hinata about the special Power Rangers episodes that were going to be aired on Saturday and tormenting Tsukishima the moment the blonde made a snide remark about his childish taste in television programming. 

He all but flew down the stairs, eager to get to practice, to hear the blood pumping in his ears and feel the strain of his muscles as he slowly ripped them apart. Simple things, things even a dumb beast like him could understand and revel in. Things that only hurt himself, and not in an angst-ridden way but in the kind of way where the hero at the end of the movie stood up despite his injuries and plunged his sword right through the belly of the monster and the music swelled and the audience silently fist-pumped because they were too cowardly to properly express their passion for the thrill of the moment.

But when Noya opened the door to the gym, heard the familiar thudding sound of a gargantuan hand slamming against a poor, defenseless ball, the enthusiasm left him. Like ink out of a fleeing squid.

Ryū led the underclassmen in stretches in a corner of the gym, and Noya mindlessly followed the familiar instructions. Every so often Suga’s cheerful voice floated through the air, Asahi’s dark timbre following. Ukai called them over for the first regiment, and Noya had to force himself to listen. Asahi was standing in the back with Suga, sweat beading on his ridiculously large forehead, his shirt already sticking to his chest, transparent in places.

A sharp tug to his arm made Noya turn around again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ryū, staring at him like someone would a doomed man. It set Noya’s teeth on edge and he bumped into his friend, letting him know, gently, to please fuck off he didn’t want to think about it now.

When Ukai announced that the first half of practice would be conditioning, Noya nearly cheered with relief. Sprints and pushups and wall-sits and vertical jumps over and over until they puked. It was what he needed.

He jogged over to take his place at the end line for sprints, Hinata next to him. Hinata was shaking with nerves, which made Noya laugh and ruffle the kid’s hair and remind him that he was probably the fastest on the team when it came to sprinting. The adoring look the skittish child gave him made Noya puff out his chest with pride, and when the whistle blew he pushed himself to keep one step ahead of Hinata, which meant, of course, ahead of everyone else.

For nearly an hour there was just the bite of shoes against the floor, the dull ache in his left elbow from a fracture that had never properly healed, the suffocating humidity of sweat in the air. Noya’s enthusiasm grew the more exhausted he became, physical fatigue easily drop-kicking whatever emotional bullshit was festering in his head. By the time they reached the wall-sit portion of the regiment his whole body was shaking and he couldn’t for the life of him stop grinning. He heard Kageyama call him ‘disturbing’ under his breath, but since the first year was clearly delusional from exhaustion he let it slide with just a little, maniacal laugh.

The cold concrete of the gym felt amazing against his sweat-soaked back. Noya closed his eyes, enjoying the small bit of comfort while everyone else got ready. He felt someone settle in next to him, the heat from their body making the hair on his arm prickle. Close.

He cracked open an eye, expecting to see Ryū.

Asahi was staring fixedly ahead, his face too pale for how hot it was and his eyes too bright.

Noya nearly slid down the wall in surprise, giving himself whiplash as he turned to look straight ahead again. He toyed with the idea of grabbing Yamaguchi to his left and bodily trading places with him, but before he could move Ukai started barking out instructions.

“Five minutes! If anyone goes down, we all start over! Understood?”

“Yes, coach!” Noya intoned with the rest of his team. Daichi and Suga were grimacing and doing last minute stretches, while Ennoshita looked as though he were attempting to enter Nirvana to offer himself some relief. They were all bone-weary and five minutes was a fucking long time on fresh muscles, let alone abused ones. Even for Noya.

The whistle blew, and they started, Kageyama already cursing under his breath.

Noya settled in comfortably, letting his mind wander. He knew he had the strongest leg muscles on the team when it came to endurance. Without the breaks jumping and standing up straight offered, he really wasn’t left with much of a choice. You straightened up, reaction time decreased, team lost. It wasn’t really that hard to figure out.

A few minutes in and Noya tugged his brain back slightly, just enough to check on the rest of his team. Suga was clearly struggling, as were all of the first years. Hinata’s face was so red he looked like he’d just taken a bath in ketchup, and even Tsukishima looked pained. His frown was deeper than usual, at any rate. But everyone’s legs were visibly shaking, to the man. When Ukai called out, “Two minutes left,” there came a near-deafening spate of curses and groans.

Noya reached over to pat Yamaguchi’s shoulder, offering the underclassman a grin when all he got in return was a dead-fish-eye stare.

“Two minutes left – that’s only eight commercials!” he yelled. “Think about that adorable one with the cats delivering pizza—”

“Noya I swear to god if you mention food right now we’re locking you in the supply closet after practice,” Suga moaned, weakly swatting at Daichi’s hand when the captain tried to pat his head.

Noya just laughed and leaned over a bit to glance down the line at Suga.

“Less than two minutes, Suga!” he called out. “Push yourself! Tsukishima, straighten up your back, you’re putting too much pressure on your spine! Hinata, good form! Good form, perfect ninety degrees, you’re a genius at this!”

He continued down the line, encouraging and teasing where appropriate, letting the insults bounce off of him. The grateful looks were enough to let him know nothing was said in sincerity. When you were suffering with nothing to distract your brain, even cursing someone out for being a loud idiot could offer relief.

He ruffled Yamaguchi’s hair, his expression falling slightly when he realized he’d addressed everyone.

Except for the single person to his right.

He bit his lip, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Asahi. Asahi’s legs were shaking so badly the heel of his left shoe was leaving the floor. The tendons in his neck were sticking out. It made him look like some hulked-out monster on the brink of complete mental implosion.

Ukai shouted ‘thirty seconds,’ and Asahi closed his eyes. Sweat was pouring down his face, but there were a few rivulets just under his eyes that were obviously made of different stuff.

Noya quickly looked away, his gaze fixed on the floor. One by one he felt his teammates turn to look at Asahi, the awkward tension in the air growing thicker with every set of eyes. They were all thinking the same thing. Noya could feel it. They were all begging Asahi to not go down. The second tallest on their team, the heaviest, the guy who had only just returned to training, who had done nothing for weeks.

And then Noya felt the hair on the back of his neck stick up, as one by one those same eyes turned to fixate on him, cautious and baited.

Noya clenched his hands at his sides, the sound of Asahi’s labored breathing in his ear the worst sort of discomfited torture.

Say something.

He bit his tongue, his own legs starting to tremble from fatigue. A moment later Asahi slid a few inches down the wall but managed to catch himself. The team collectively held its breath, watching Asahi’s legs as they shook.

For fuck’s sake, just say anything.

Noya opened his mouth, struggling to find even a single word of encouragement underneath his discomfort, his disappointment, his own personal shame. What could he say that wouldn’t be pandering and condescending? He knew if it were him he wouldn’t want anyone looking at him, not while he cried out of pain from a workout that yeah everyone else was struggling with but no one else was slowly failing or suffering so badly they were crying. But he had to say something, time was running out and it was so awkward and stifling and—

“Time!”

The moment Ukai spoke the majority of the team collapsed, letting out exhausted groans. The rest straightened up, leaning against the wall or clutching at their thighs.

Noya was the last to fall, wincing as the concrete scraped his back. In his periphery he saw Asahi hunch over, still standing. He was gripping his knees, head bowed. One by one the rest of the team stumbled over, patting him on the back, offering words of gratitude, encouragement.

Ukai blew his whistle as he headed over. Everyone fell silent, staring expectantly at the coach. He folded his arms over his chest, a wild grin on his face.

“Weeks out of training and you can still keep up. Everyone – that’s the kind of player we need on our team!”

Suga lightly rubbed Asahi’s back, and Daichi had his proud dad expression on, smiling at his fellow third year. But after only a moment their eyes fell on Noya again. Waiting.

Noya picked himself up, trying not to wince when everyone fell silent. They were still staring at him expectantly while Asahi still stared at the floor. Noya fought to keep his expression neutral, plastering on a grin when Hinata caught his eye. 

“I guess that’s why Asahi’s the ace,” he said lightly, folding his hands behind his head so he wouldn’t be tempted to punch himself in the face. 

Daichi raised an eyebrow.

“You guess?” he repeated, amusement in his voice. “Noya, that’s—”

Asahi suddenly stood up straight, gently pushing aside Suga’s hand. He wiped his face with one huge palm and then turned, very, very slightly. To everyone else it probably looked like he was adjusting his stance to better address the rest of the team. But just before he moved he made eye contact with Noya.

And the look of festering anger in Asahi’s eyes was enough to make Noya take a step back, his stomach sinking.

Asahi turned, and very, very slightly, blocked him out.

Noya remained frozen, staring at the back of Asahi’s neck. Fucking miles out of reach.

Asahi gave a slight bow. When he straightened up his sheepish smile was back in place. He rubbed his neck. “Sorry, everyone,” he said quietly. “I’m more out of shape than I thought…”

Ryū laughed and clapped him on the back, pausing only for a moment to give Noya a ‘what the hell’s wrong with you’ look before saying cheerfully, “You hung in there for us! Noya’s right, if that’s not ace behavior I don’t know what is!”

Asahi visibly relaxed at that. He gave the rest of the team another dopey smile, but then Ukai blew his whistle and yelled at them to get jogging or their muscles were going to tense up. Daichi and Suga grabbed Asahi , tugging him up to the front with them and teasing him mercilessly about his newborn-foal-like gait.

Noya hung back, wary of what choice words the upperclassmen might have for him. Ryū was kind enough to keep pace with him. Kinder enough to hit him on the back of his head.

“The hell’s wrong with you,” Ryū hissed. Called it. “That was so fucking blatant I think Take’s ready to write an epic about not making others feel left out.”

“I panicked, okay!” Noya glanced behind him at the flagging first years and moved a bit closer to Ryū. “He was crying – what was I supposed to do?! Call more attention to him? Asahi gets embarrassed when you point out he missed a strand of hair when pulling it into a bun. He probably would have run out of the gym wailing.”

“We’re not Stretch Armstrong – who the hell would’ve been able to see him when we were all up against the wall like that?”

Ryū gave one of his exaggerated sighs that made Noya want to kick his face in. 

“Well, whatever,” Ryū finally said, shrugging his shoulders. “Asahi’s pissed now and we all know that makes everyone in the prefecture shit themselves. But conversely that might make your little after practice confrontation go better. Since you seem to have a masochistic streak the size of fuckin’ Hiroshima.”

“Who taught you to use three syllable words,” Noya muttered, wincing as he took a turn weird and his knee twinged. “But I’m not a masochist. I really don’t want to do this Ryū. I can feel it I can feel we’re going to yell and I hate yelling I really hate it unless it’s for comical reasons mainly slapstick based.”

Ryū let out a little breath, slowing to a walk when Ukai blew his whistle again. He reached out to ruffle Noya’s hair.

“At least it’ll be over. All out in the air,” he said sympathetically. “And Asahi’s a good guy, despite the terror he unconsciously evokes in others at times. You know it, everyone knows it. He’ll relax once he sees that you’re beating yourself up more over this than he ever could. Even though his hands – they’re so big, dude, he could probably squeeze your head like this, crush it like a watermelon.” He demonstrated. Sound effects included.

Noya stared at the invisible crushed skull between Ryū’s fingers.

“…Honestly at this point I could live with that. I’d be okay with skull crushing, I think,” Noya mumbled, his eyes darting across the gym to fix on Asahi. The first years were crowded around him again, Hinata anxiously inquiring after his health and Yamaguchi looking terrified to even be talking to someone a whole two years his senior. Asahi had an embarrassed smile on his face, but when he started to turn his head Noya quickly looked away again.

He swallowed heavily, dancing from foot to foot.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, Ryū, is he actually going to murder me. I think he is, he’s going to murder me and then you guys won’t have a prayer at regionals you’ll be more crushed than that skull—”

“Noya. You dumb shit, he’s not going to hurt you,” Ryū groaned, pulling up his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow. His narrow eyes darted over for a moment to fix on Asahi before visibly dismissing him. “He’s cooled off. We have two drills left, then clean up. I’ll cover for you. Just do it. Please, before I murder you. And then probably myself because we took a blood oath we wouldn’t finish Bioshock without the other and hell if I can live without seeing the end of that game.”

Noya tugged his shirt away from his chest, trying to cool down a bit.

“I already said I’m doing it,” Noya said firmly, trying to convince himself through the ever-thickening blanket of fear smothering his insides. “I don’t back down from things, remember? Most likely because, as you speculated, my genetics are half mule.”

Ryū snorted quietly, but his lips were pulled up in a little grin.

“It would explain the hair. And you are stubborn, that’s for sure,” he said lightly, jogging over to the rest of the team, Noya following him. “Only one as bad as you’s – well.” He gestured subtly to Asahi.

“Don’t I know it,” Noya muttered, falling silent when Ukai began to speak.

The rest of the practice was sprints and vertical jumps. Hinata stole the show with the latter, of course, and for a bit Noya was able to cheerfully forget his anxiety as he ooed and aahed with the rest of his team. Asahi stayed the hell away from him, which was good. Time to think and strategize and – holy shit Hinata could jump.

Noya’s eyes widened as he watched the first year’s hand slam into the scale they had taped to the gym wall. An eighty vertical jump. Easily. Even though they’d been training like crazy all day.

Noya felt his chest swell with pride. His team was amazing. Every single one of them. Holy shit they were so, so amazing.

It didn’t take long for the dam to burst.

“Shōyō that was incredible!” he yelled, darting forward to slug the first year in the stomach. Playfully. “I can’t believe you can even move after the training we just did! Let along practically jump over me! Holy sh—shoot you’re like a human grasshopper!” 

Hinata doubled over, wheezing for a moment, but when he lifted his head the tears in his eyes were those of gratitude. Noya was sure of it.

“T-Thank you,” he stammered, a huge grin on his face. “But, um… c-could you maybe not punch me anymore? Please? S-Sorry, I just have a weak stomach—”

“Legendarily so,” Tsukishima muttered, looking away.

Noya laughed and straightened up, ruffling Hinata’s hair.

“I can’t make any promises. Sometimes things just need to be punched,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll try and hold back. And you!” He pointed a finger at Tsukishima. “You’re hilarious! But also kind of mean, cut that out. Or at least mutter it quieter.”

Tsukishima stared at him as though assessing a small, rampaging Chihuahua. 

“Okay,” was all he said, and Noya deemed the battle won. He flashed Tsukishima a thumbs up, snickering when the boy had to physically restrain his eyeballs from rolling up into his head. What a sarcastic dick. He was fantastic too, though, so it was okay.

Noya rested his hands on his hips, silently surveying the rest of the team. They all looked ready to drop, but each one of them was smiling and laughing still. Well, the ones that were known to smile, anyway.

Ukai blew his whistle, and they all turned to face the coach.

The moment Ukai opened his mouth, though, Noya felt his stomach sink.

Practice was over.

Fuck.

He listened with half an ear to Ukai’s comments, focusing only on the ones meant for defense. The rest of his brain was trying to cobble together words to form some sort of a verbal plan. What did he want to say. Apologize, right. That was the big thing. For fixating on Asahi, holding a grudge. Not encouraging him enough. Encouraging him too much at other, less opportune times. That was probably also a thing.

Noya worried at his lip and glanced at Ryū. He wanted to pull his friend aside for some last minute cheerleading, but the other second year was intensely focused on the critique Ukai was giving the spikers, so that was out.

And then Ukai was blowing his whistle again and the team all scattered, heading for the supply closet or towards the net for tear down.

Noya remained frozen, the half of his brain still fixating on planning apparently also the half responsible for willful movement. A hand slapped him on the back and he turned to face Ryū. He blinked slowly and pushed his hair off his forehead. It was starting to wilt from all the sweat.

“What do I say?”

“I dunno, man.”

Ryū’s voice was unusually subdued. When Noya looked up at him he saw that his friend was staring across the gym at Asahi, his eyes narrowed.

“I guess just be you. Say what comes to mind. Apologize for being a dick. Give a pompous speech about wanting to keep the core of the team strong and then get all flustered and humble when you’re called out on it. The usual.”

Noya clung to Ryū’s words like a drowning man to a buoy. 

“I don’t need to plan?” he asked weakly.

Ryū snorted. “Nah. Not your forte.” With a grin he slapped Noya on the back again, sending him stumbling forward. “Go get ‘em, champ. It’ll take two seconds, promise.”

Noya shook out his arms, his wrists still aching a bit from the series of pushups they’d had to do. He gave Ryū one last smile before jogging towards the net. Asahi was helping Suga with one of the poles, talking quietly with him. Noya slowed his steps and stood off to the side, waiting to be noticed.

Of course it was Suga who spotted him first. Probably because he’d unconsciously chosen to stand in one of Asahi’s blindspots. Because he was a dick.

“Oh! Noya – are you here to help?” Suga asked, looking relieved.

Noya gave the upperclassman an apologetic grin.

“Opposite, I’m afraid. I, uh—”

His mouth went dry when Asahi straightened up and glanced at him over his shoulder. Not a good look. It was doing things to his stomach. Liquefying things.

Two seconds. Ryū had been so cavalier about it but god dammit Noya was going to hold onto those words. He could survive two seconds of awkwardness.

“I kind of wanted to borrow Asahi for a moment? If that’s okay,” he said quickly, getting the words out before they morphed into something else in his mouth. Suga looked surprised but then a knowing look crossed over his wise, maternal face. Knowing and kind of smug.

Asshole.

“I don’t mind. Putting Daichi to work with menial labor is always a treat,” Suga said dismissively. “You can go, Asahi, it’s fine.”

“I really don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”

Noya stared at Asahi in mild shock, watching as the older boy continued to work on the net, his back to him. Suga didn’t bother hiding his surprise. He fiddled awkward with one of the latches on the pole and then glanced at Noya, one eyebrow raised to very clearly say he didn’t want to get involved in whatever this was. Nice only went so far. Self-preservation took precedence.

Noya shook himself out of his stupor, gave Suga an understanding smile, and then said a bit more firmly, “I’d really like to talk to you, Asahi. Please.”

With a little grunt Asahi tugged the pole out and rested it on the cart. He wiped his arm across his forehead, his back still to Noya.

“I don’t really have anything to say.”

To you.

The unspoken words hung there in the air. Noya watched them float around, little poisonous jellyfish. Stingers and everything.

The first band holding his temper in place snapped.

“Okay. Not what I asked,” he said, a bit clipped. “I have things to say. Things I’d like to say, kind of a lot of them and that number is increasing by the second.”

He saw Asahi’s shoulders tense. Suga beat a hasty retreat. Smart man.

“I really don’t feel like talking right now, Nishinoya,” Asahi said again, his voice carrying a hint of a warning to it. “Please. Just give me a bit—”

“We’re talking about this today. Right goddamn now. I can’t take another practice like this,” Noya snapped, abandoning pretense altogether. Fuck, fuck fuck this was why he needed a plan, needed five plans because he’d forgotten how fucking squirrely Asahi could be when he wanted to get out of something. Like a champion dodgeball player.

He took a step forward, ready to bodily turn Asahi around if he had to. Again. Since their first physical confrontation had ended so well and clearly he was dumb enough to repeat history.

But before he could so much as touch Asahi the older boy had whirled around, his face red and his eyes narrowed. Noya felt his insides go cold. He knew that look. The way Asahi’s mouth grew all pinched and his wide, brown eyes flashed.

He barely resisted covering his ears before the onslaught came.

“You don’t listen! Nishinoya, I said no!” Asahi yelled, his booming voice echoing throughout the gym. “I thought you’d gotten better about giving me space but apparently not. Please, I am begging you just – back off!”

Noya bristled at that, the words carrying the cadence of too many insults for him to let go. Asahi was looming in front of him like a sweaty mountain of a human, his stupid, stubbly chin shaking with anger and Noya wanted to rip out every single hair in his beard and force feed them to him.

The second band snapped.

Noya narrowed his eyes, his hackles raising.

Fine.

Fucking fine.

“Okay, we’re yelling?! I guess we’re yelling now!” he shouted back. “Fine, I can yell! Dammit – I want to yell, Asahi, I want to fucking talk, please! If it has to be at a high volume then sure, whatever!” He took a deep breath, took a moment to remember that he was supposed to be apologizing for eye-stalking Asahi, for fixating on him, for encouraging him in the exact opposite way.

For abandoning him.

That last one strangled his temper. Enough, at least.

He lifted his head, forcing himself to meet Asahi’s eyes. A thousand fucking feet above him.

He let out a slow breath. Girdled his loins.

“I’m sor—”

Asahi abruptly turned on his heel and stormed towards the door. Noya stood still, dumbfounded for a moment, before his face turned bright red.

Hell no.

“Asahi!” he yelled, starting after the other boy. “God – dammit I’m trying to talk to you!”

“And I’m trying to tell you, you don’t listen! And don’t follow me!”

The command registered with the animalistic, instinctual part of Noya’s brain. His steps slowed for a moment as he watched Asahi all but bolt out the door. Daichi took a little step towards Asahi as he approached the exit, but Asahi just gently pushed Daichi’s arm away and ducked outside.

Noya felt his blood began to boil again. The rest of the team was watching, the first years looking both terrified and exhilarated. They hadn’t seen the last performance live, after all. This was new for them.

May as well put on a show.

With a loud string of swears Noya sped after Asahi, snapping, “I’ve got this, Daichi!” when his captain tried to stop him. Daichi immediately took a step back, holding up his hands. Noya swore he saw the captain grinning, but whatever. He’d get mad about that later.

Noya skidded to a halt when he left the building, sending up a little cloud of dust. Where was he. Where was he, Asahi, the asshole. Giant, giant dildo of a human being, couldn’t stand still long enough to get a loving apology thrown at his stupid, dopey face.

A little noise made Noya glance to the left, just in time to see Asahi dart around a corner. Noya inhaled sharply and took off, not caring that his gym shoes were probably getting wrecked.

“Asahi!” he bellowed, rounding the corner. “Stop – just fucking stop for five seco—”

He barreled right into Asahi’s chest.

He stumbled backwards, nearly falling down. A hand against the gym wall saved him from going head over ass, thankfully, but when he stood up straight his cheeks were red with embarrassment. Asahi, thanks to his titan girth, barely looked winded.

He did, however, look furious.

“Nishinoya – do you not even understand simple commands anymore?!” he snapped, taking a step away. His brown eyes darting off to the side and for a moment he looked almost

Scared.

Noya huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He could hear scrambling around the window a few feet above them. The rest of the team was probably eavesdropping. Of course they were. It’s where he would have been.

“I understand, but I’m choosing to ignore,” he snapped. “I’m trying to talk to you and I want to do it now—”

“It’s not always about what you want,” Asahi snapped. “Although now that we’re on the subject, what do you want from me, Nishinoya?”

He took a step forward, and Noya found himself automatically retreating. Step for step.

This was an unpleasant role reversal.

He opened his mouth to respond but Asahi continued to talk over his aborted attempt.

“I came back to the team, I’m training every day, I’m trying to shake off last season – what more do you want me to do?” He took another step forward. “You keep glaring at me every practice, you’re missing simple receives you’re so focused on making sure I’m not messing up. And then today— Do you have any idea how hard it was to come back? How humiliating? I can barely keep up! There are first years that are surpassing me and the one person who I thought would support me no matter how pathetic I’ve become doesn’t even have my back during a stupid drill!”

“And if you would fucking listen for a second – Asahi, I’m trying to apologize!” Noya yelled, ready to tear his hair out with frustration and shame. Because Asahi was right. Asahi was so close to losing it and dropping off the plane of the logical but Asahi was right. And it hurt so badly to hear that Noya thought he was going to throw up, right in the middle of all the stupid drama. Just vomit everywhere and oh no, no he had to stop thinking about puke when he’d spent all day pushing his body to do stupid, stupid things.

Before he could regroup he felt a weird pressure around his chest. 

And then he was slammed up against the wall and oh, of course, that pressure was Asahi grabbing his shirt and he was going to die.

Noya latched onto Asahi’s wrist, but made no move to pull his hand away. Maybe Ryū was right. Maybe he was a masochist because this really fucking hurt and he was just letting it happen to him.

He stared up into Asahi’s furious face, wondering, not for the first time, how someone with such hippy, flower child hair could look so fucking terrifying.

“I don’t want an apology, Nishinoya!”

Noya’s teeth clacked together as he was slammed up against the wall again.

“Ow!” he yelled pointedly. “Asahi, I have nerve endings, would you cut it out?! And fine, you don’t want an apology. What do you want, then?! A formal letter?! Blood oath?! Just—”

Oh god. Oh god, his eyes were stinging, he could feel every last ounce of self respect and dignity leaving his body. He frantically tried to stem the tide, but the waves of fury rolling off of Asahi were making it pretty damn difficult. Because no matter how much he yelled, criticized, blocked out the other boy.

He was his ace. 

And as it turned out, being yelled at by someone you respected, even if they were a wet mop of a person sometimes and had really weird, irrational temper flare ups and moments of trenchant lucidity.

It fucking sucked.

Noya sucked in a breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Just tell me what you want me to do, Asahi,” he finally bit out, feeling his throat start to close up. “Because I really – I really fucking hate this! I don’t wanna be mad at you anymore, I don’t! I’m sick of it, I’m not built for this kind of emotional depth and I’m sorry… god I’m so sorry, I think I’m just exhausted but the apology still stands, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nishinoya.”

Noya shut up. Obeyed his ace. He lifted his gaze from where it had fallen to Asahi’s chest. He caught a glimpse of wary, brown eyes, a lock of sweat-clumped hair that had fallen out of its bun.

Asahi was really fucking close. And he really didn’t look all that angry anymore.

Noya tensed, still anticipating another yell session. But then suddenly Asahi was blocking his vision completely. He looked torn, brows furrowed and eyes pinched. For one, silent moment, his iron grip on Noya’s shirt loosened. And then with a quiet curse, Asahi’s lips pressed desperately, clumsily against Noya's own. 

Noya’s eyes widened as every single thought in his head was horribly derailed. 

There it was again. 

The slowness of relative time. 

He could hear the rest of his team jostling for position at the window directly above them. Could smell the weird cologne Asahi used because his spirit was, at its core, that of a sixty year old retiree. Could feel a foreign pressure against his lips, the heaviness of Asahi’s hand tightening in his shirt. And the quiet, terrified hitch in Asahi’s breathing.

The contact lasted for less than a second before Noya jerked back instinctively, his head slamming against the gym wall.

“…Ow,” he said out of delayed propriety. 

Asahi’s hand was still fisted in his practice jersey, and he was still really fucking close. Asahi suddenly let go, as though burned, and took a step away.

Noya cautiously pushed himself away from the wall, his exhausted, single-cell brain trying to piece together what had happened.

Asahi took another step backwards. His large frame was trembling like a discarded umbrella in a typhoon. He looked ready to puke. Or run a marathon right into a volcano.

Noya stared at the other boy, a dark, panicked feeling nestling amongst his organs.

Was that—

Noya licked his lips, beheading his thoughts. They were dry. As usual. His stupid lips. His mom tried to get him to use chapstick more often but he hated how it made them feel. Like they were covered in fish skin.

And that was enough stalling.

Noya let out a little breath and took a cautious step forward.

“Asa—”

Asahi’s face immediately drained of all color. Without a word, he took off before Noya could get out the last syllable, rounding the corner in just a few seconds.

Noya remained still for a moment, listening to the crunch of Asahi’s sneakers against the gravel. He slowly slumped back against the gym wall, staring straight ahead.

He reached up to touch his lips, his eyes widening.

The last piece fell uncomfortably into place, jammed in by a frantic, frenzied paranoia.

“Oh. Shit.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit. This is really long. And really rambley. Honestly I should have edited it more but I wrote most of it in a fever stress state and kind of want to preserve it for whatever reason. 
> 
> I’m still getting the hang of the characters, so bear with me. Also starting this episode I’m just flat out making stuff up about Noya’s family. Since we know next to nothing in canon, and domestic situations are my lifeblood, I pretty much said fuck it and wrote whatever. If you don’t like non-canon stuff then… idk consider this a full blown AU.
> 
> Also thank you all so, so much for your fantastic reviews and comments. They really make my day, I can’t say it enough. This is such a great fandom and I’m so happy to be a (very tiny) part of it. And don’t worry hetalia peeps. I’m alternating which fic I’m working on so IM is up next!

Noya had touched his goddamn lips thirteen times before he was forced to admit he was stalling. And something else. Like weirded out but not as mean. 

Startled. That was it. He was fucking startled. 

And maybe a little weirded out.

He let his head thunk back against the gym, listening to his teammates try and fail to be subtle as they abandoned their perches by the window. God. How much had they heard. More importantly how much had they seen.

And what was Asahi telling them.

“Fucking – hell, shit,” Noya cursed softly, pushing himself away from the wall and sprinting back to the gym doors. He darted inside, ignoring the way his teammates were pointedly staring at anything but him as his eyes scanned the space. Sawamura Sugawara Ennoshita Hinata Kageyama Kinoshita Narita Tsukishima Shimizu Ukai Takeda Yamaguchi Tanaka.

No Azumane.

Noya ran his fingers through his hair, prickly and on edge from how obvious the rest of the team was being. Even Ukai was staring up at the ceiling instead of making eye contact with him.

Et tu, Ukai.

Noya padded over to Ryū’s side and tugged on his shirt.

“Where.”

“E-Eh? What?” Ryū glanced down, throwing him a sheepish smile. “Oh, Noya. Hi. Hello. How are you.”

Noya pressed his lips in a thin line and moved to his next target. He tapped Ennoshita on the shoulder.

“Where.”

Ennoshita raised an eyebrow and pressed a hand against Ryū’s face to get him to stop pantomiming ‘no’ over and over.

“If you mean Asahi, he’s gone home. He said he had homework.” Ennoshita’s bland expression said what he thought of that excuse.

Noya stared at Ennoshita for a moment, fluctuating between rage and relief. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Ennoshita rubbed the back of his neck. “So…”

He trailed off and Noya fell still, uncomfortable. Ennoshita gave him a weak smile.

“Asahi’s pretty scary when he yells, huh? I dunno how you deal with it.”

Noya blinked.

Oh.

Oh thank god.

Noya forced out a weak laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “Kind of getting used to it? As sad as it sounds. I mean there’s only so many times you can piss yourself from fear before you just accept that this is your life now, y’know?”

Ennoshita laughed and nodded before Narita called him over. He waved at the other second year and gave Noya one last smile.

“Well at least you missed teardown. Not sure it’s a fair trade, but—”

“Ennoshita! Hurry up, I’m starving!”

Ennoshita winced and called back, “Coming!” He glanced at Noya again before saying firmly, “Next time, maybe take the confrontation elsewhere? The first years looked like they were going to cry. You know it’s rough on them seeing their upperclassmen fighting.”

Noya tensed.

“We weren’t fight—and you’re gone.”

He watched Ennoshita’s back as he jogged away, trying to feel annoyed with the spiker but unable to dredge up the energy. Ennoshita should have been the one put out by Asahi’s return. He’d taken his position and his number, after all, but true to his easy going nature, Ennoshita really didn’t seem to give a shit.

Lucky bastard.

Someone clapped him on the shoulder and Noya tilted his head back to see Daichi smiling down at him.

“So. I’m assuming you two got everything worked out? We won’t have another interruption like that?”

“Dai, please don’t smile like that when you drop vague threats. It’s really unsettling,” Noya pleaded.

“I’m not dropping vague threats. I’m overtly implying that you two need to settle whatever this is before it becomes a problem,” Daichi said pleasantly. His smile faded and he stared down at Noya for a moment before letting out a little breath. “Honestly I think I’m more inclined to blame you just because Asahi’s in my grade. Which really isn’t fair. Sorry, Noya. I know you’re not purposefully riling him up.” Daichi arched an eyebrow. “At least I hope you’re not.”

“N-No! God – no, fu—absolutely not,” Noya said quickly, waving his hands like a flightless bird in denial. “I don’t enjoy making people angry unless they deserve it and that list is really, really short and doesn’t include Asahi so – I promise, not on purpose.”

Daichi relaxed and gave him a less maniacal grin.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “I know you’re not the vindictive type but it doesn’t hurt to check.” He reached out to ruffle Noya’s hair, and for a fleeting moment Noya thought about how paternal Daichi was and how weird yet comforting it could be. But then Daichi threw him another terrifying grin that abruptly shattered the image.

“Guess that means I have to talk to Asahi tomorrow,” Daichi said lightly, jogging back towards Suga. “Wonder how high he’ll jump when I yell at him this time. Record’s around forty now.”

Noya gave a weak laugh as he followed his captain, making a mental note to stay the hell away from the third floor tomorrow at school.

Ryū managed, somehow, to avoid him for the rest of teardown, what little there was left. Which was impressive considering how small the gym was. In fact – Noya glanced behind him through the open supply closet door – everyone was doing a good job of keeping their gazes above his eye level. Still.

With an irritable sigh, Noya pushed the last ball cart to join its brothers in the depths of the closet and then headed out. Mysteriously the club room was empty as well. Mysteriously. Noya tugged on his sweats, making a mental checklist of things to text Ryū and in what order. Order was important. Order would convey to his friend just how grumpy he was.

Noya slung his bag over his shoulder and shut the club door behind him. He could hear Daichi’s deep voice rumbling from somewhere close. Good. Meant he didn’t have to be in charge of locking up.

He managed to slip off of school grounds without either of his upperclassmen noticing and began the short trek home. His mind, of course, wanted very badly to wander back to that half second behind the gym. It cheerfully reminded him that it had catalogued every little sensation so that he could agonize over them in private later, just like he did with missed receives after a game.

This was worse.

Noya paused for a moment, staring down into a rainwater canal. 

Yeah.

Worse.

His stomach churning unpleasantly, Noya crumpled the voice up in a ball and tossed it back in the recesses of his mind. It would flatten itself out and demand attention eventually but he couldn’t handle it right now. Without someone to talk to, to rein him in before he rocketed out of control, he knew he’d be asking for trouble. Big, explodey yelling trouble. Mostly at himself, which would do him and the world at large exactly zero good.

He turned down the street towards his house. Old Italian car repair shop, little liquor store, towering walls of the temple, small playground with its earthy floor and peeling monkey bars. The air was heavy, smelling like turbid dust. His neighbors perched on their verandas, quickly taking in the laundry before the clouds converging overhead poured out their contents on the little street.

The gate was open. His siblings’ doing, no doubt, they never remembered to close it. He pressed the latch and headed inside. He toed off his shoes, making a beeline for his room at the back of the house, passing the darkened kitchen, the darkened living room. Brother and sister and parents got the modern rooms upstairs. Not that he minded the traditional room at the end of the house, or the tatami. The windows that never really shut properly. And the bonus of having a picture of his dead grandfather staring at him from the altar if he left open the dividing set of doors. They partitioned off the fancier half of the room and his own, less fancy half. It had taken getting used to, admittedly, but when his little brother had wanted his own room Noya had given his up in a heartbeat. It had stopped his siblings from fighting so much, at any rate.

Not being able to put up posters kind of sucked, though. As did getting woken up by his dad chanting in the fancy half most mornings. The stupid little bell dinging.

But tatami was fun to slide around on, providing he didn’t get caught. 

Noya flopped down on the futon he’d shoved hurriedly in the corner that morning. He stared up at the square light dangling above his head. There was a backpack full of homework discarded just outside the fusuma doors. Splatters of rain were already hitting the windows. 

Asahi’s bottom lip had been trembling.

FUCK.

Noya wailed and tugged a pillow to cover his face, trying to suffocate himself. If he passed out then maybe the thoughts would stay crumpled for good. Because there wasn’t anything to logic through this time. There was no analysis of play available, no next time he could remedy. Just Asahi leaning in and kissing him over and over again, the hitch in his breath, the kicked-in-the-balls look on his face when he’d pulled away, the stupid fight that had led to it and his own pathetic breakdown—

“Nope!”

Noya bolted upright, flinging his pillow across the room in a burst of panic. Nearly decapitating his grandfather’s picture, sorry, fuck.

He scrambled over to the altar on his knees, quickly righting the portrait and fixing the votives set in the recess of the carved wood. He sat back on his heels, the hair on the nape of his neck prickling the longer he stayed around his grandfather.

Like the old man knew that another stupid boy had.

Kissed.

…Someone.

Right, someone. Not him.

…Sorry, Grandpa.

After clasping his hands together in apology, Noya backpedaled and quickly closed the fusuma doors to the more formal half of the room. It wasn’t really his, anyway, and he tried to tell his dad that he preferred they stay shut. But his dad just made jokes about him not wanting to jerk off in front of their deceased relatives and that nearly always made his mother blow up and yell at him to not say obscene things in front of the children, even when they were upstairs in the den watching One Piece or Fairy whatsit. She could never remember the names of cartoons, even though she tried really hard to be a hip mom.

Noya sat on the floor in front of his desk, tugging his backpack over. For once maybe homework was the answer. Doubtful, but worth a shot. If his grades got any worse his parents might actually revoke television privileges and he knew Ryū would murder him for that.

Speaking of which.

Noya dug around in his bag for his phone and flipped it open. No new messages. Weird. Ryū usually texted him on the train ride home, he got bored.

Little shit.

With a heavy scowl on his face, Noya typed out the most scathing message he’d planned.

/You’re a little shit. Get online I need to yell at you more./

He set his phone aside and began work on his math homework. Worst subject, better to do it now while brain cells were fresh. Ish.

He fumbled for the on button on his laptop, automatically typing in his log-in password when the screen prompted him. Fifteen minutes into his homework, the little messenger notification dinged at him. Noya set his pencil down, staring at the screen.

/hey noya/

Noya tugged his laptop closer, folding his legs under him. He wanted to be slightly taller than the screen while he chewed Ryū out from a distance.

/so what the hell, man. where’d you run off to?/

/had to run to catch my train. practice went a little late today. what with all the. uh./

Noya clicked his tongue and beat Ryū to the punch.

/eavesdropping/

He watched the cartoon pencil at the bottom of the chat box scribble furiously and then give up and faint about fifty times as Ryū deleted whatever he’d entered. Just when Noya was about to lose it a message came through.

/yeah. could you really hear us?/

/ten huge volleyball players and their two grown ass supervisors all trying to crowd around a small gym window two meters above the ground. we heard you./

/… i dunno if I should tell you this but. kiyoko may have been there too./

The pencil scribbled for a moment longer.

/…we may have let her stand on our shoulders./

/YOU ASSHOLES/

Noya swore loudly and opened and closed his math book a bunch of times in a fit of nervous energy. Great. Even Kiyoko had heard –

Oh right.

/so how much did you guys hear, exactly?/

It took Ryū a few minutes to reply. Which didn’t help Noya’s anxiety any.

/pretty much everything except when you guys got really quiet at the end./

Noya could practically see Ryū throwing in the towel.

/mostly stuff about how you ride asahi too hard. and are kind of fixated on him. which sort of weirdly clashes with your cold-shoulder treatment of him today which again i have to ask what the hell/

/okay i told you already what it was. next time i’ll draw attention to you freaking out when your sister calls threatening to sell your browser history to the basketball club./

/how is that even remotely on the same scale!? YOU KNOW SHED DO IT SHES A SHEDEMON/

Noya relaxed a bit, watching Ryū’s letters silently freak out about his sister. Ryū was a terrible liar. Worse at keeping secrets. If they’d heard or seen, he’d have spilled it by now.

But just to check.

/so Asahi didn’t say anything when he went back in the gym? did you guys ask him if he was okay?/

Ryū’s pencil icon collapsed and then immediately scribbled again.

/he looked pale. we thought you guys had said some uh. nastier things that we couldn’t hear. hinata crawled up to peer out the window but he said he couldn’t see you so i mean i assumed one of you had thrown the world’s quietest punch and then one or maybe both of you had silently cried and i mean. that's what happened right. that's what always happens with you two./

There came a pause.

/…did you punch asahi/  
/i won’t tell dai/

/there was no punching! getting that out in the open right now before you start a rumor and get me in trouble again./

Noya let out a slow breath and then tipped backwards, laying down on the tatami. His whole body felt cold with relief. No one had seen. No one had even heard anything, the last part of their conversation, his meltdown. Just between them.

That was still one person too many but Noya had looked into those cool memory flashlights they’d used in that one Tommy Lee Jones movie and apparently they didn’t exist.

He heard the front door open, and a moment later his father’s voice.

“Yū! Come help me with the groceries!”

Noya groaned but picked himself up, calling out, “Coming!”

He crouched down to quickly check the chat box again.

/so are you guys cool, then? i assumed blows would be necessary to clear the air but if no punching then… i'm guessing not cool./

/still not cool. working on it. Asahi’s. you know. Asahi. i gotta help my dad with dinner, ttyl/

/k. say hi to your old man for me./

There came a moment’s pause, and then the pencil scribbled again.

/and noya, seriously. just slug the guy tomorrow. your fist is the size of his pupil, it won’t hurt him. you’ll feel so guilty you’ll apologize for real and then he’ll apologize and it’ll be okay. none of us like seeing you guys so. pissy. even tsukishima was looking more pinched than usual so. this is me getting serious and asking you to fix it. you're not yourselves and if i gotta be honest, it’s bumming me out. pretty sure suga’s crying himself to sleep too, so apologize to your lesbian life partner on the court. for mom’s sake./

Noya sat back on his heels, reading the text a few times before finally typing a reply.

/i don’t wanna talk about Asahi anymore. i'll take care of it. bbl./

“Yū!”

“God – Coming!” Noya snapped, closing his laptop and heading into the living room. His father was standing behind the counter in the kitchen, his eyes wide. He had a bag of apples in one hand, a huge radish in the other. 

“…Practice not go so well today?” he cautiously ventured, giving his son a sideways look. Noya grabbed a bag off the counter and started emptying it.

“Dad, can we just groceries, please?” Noya mumbled, ducking his head as he sorted the things. “Ryū got done scolding me a minute ago for something and I’m grumpy. He says hi, by the way.”

Kōyō Nishinoya eyed his son again before shrugging and resuming putting the groceries away.

“How’s Ryū doing? And am I allowed to ask why he scolded you? Although I’m sure it was deserved.”

“There’s so little love in this family. And yet no one wonders why I have to release all my pent up affection and admiration on my team,” Noya complained, shoving things the freezer before they started to melt. “And it’s just team drama, nothing important.”

Kōyō froze, staring down at his son in horror. He only had about ten centimeters on him but Noya still hated it. His whole family was going to be able to look down their noses at him. 

He bristled. 

“What?”

His father sucked in a sharp breath, his pale brown eyes widening.

“…Does this involve the dea—”

“I didn’t do anything to the dean that happened once and I already said I was sorry like a billion times,” Noya said quickly before his dad could have another panic attack about his son the horrible delinquent. Noya fell silent for a bit as he put more things away and then mumbled, “But it, um. Yeah. Same. Same other guy. Same team guy. Different stage and slightly different drama though.”

“Oh.”

Kōyō fell silent as well, setting up the ingredients for that night’s dinner.

“I thought you were… happy?” he cautiously ventured, quickly throwing up his hands when Noya whirled on him again. “Sorry! Sorry. Being lame Dad again, I know. Your mother will be home soon anyway so we should get going on, um. Chopping. Before she chops us.” He laughed at his own joke and gave his son a cartoonish wink as he began to grate the daikon radish.

Noya just gave his dad one last little glare before starting to work in silence, making a salad. That had been his job since his mother had trusted him with a knife. Make a salad for dinner. Their family ate pre-made dishes from the grocery store, usually. Bagged curry. Pasta. Fried chicken from the place by the train station. Pizza on a rare occasion.

But salads they could do. At least.

Noya carefully sliced a tomato, adding it to the bowl. He cast his father a guilty look and then turned back to the cutting board.

“You’re not a lame dad,” he said firmly. “You’re as nosy as those stupid magazines you stock up on for the salon but at least you care enough to ask, I guess. Dai’s – the club captain’s parents haven’t ever been to a game. Not even when they got pretty far into a tournament his first year, from what I’ve heard, and he’s the freaking captain so… yeah.”

Kōyō laughed and lightly patted his son’s arm.

“No wonder the other kids on the team look up to you. You’re a natural at the art of the pep talk.”

Noya felt his face turn red. He quickly batted his father’s hand away as he mumbled, “They don’t look up to me – well. I mean, Shōyō might but he looks up to everyone. Both literally and… and uh. The other one.”

“Figuratively.”

“Yeah. That one.”

Noya dumped the rest of the cucumber in the salad bowl and then set it aside so he could rest his elbows on the counter. He watched his dad haphazardly dump some soy sauce and green onions onto the daikon and then gesture grandly.

“Voila. Beautiful, right?”

“Edible,” Noya corrected, laughing when his father stumbled back dramatically.

“You’re a brat, my goodness. What are they teaching young people in high school nowadays,” Kōyō mock grumbled, bringing the dishes to the table.

“Oh like you can talk. You didn’t even go,” Noya said, plunking down at the table. He fiddled with his chopsticks, debating, for one wild moment, actually telling his father. They were close, and he knew he was lucky for it. His mother worked late hours some nights – being a lawyer tended to do that to you – but promptly at five his dad would close his salon and head home. Every day. Noya knew he was lucky. Especially compared to Daichi. Kageyama, from the sound of it. Probably a few others, too.

But that almost made it harder, somehow. Because he knew his dad would care. Most likely threaten to take a razor to Asahi’s beard. Hair too.

Noya’s internal debate ended as the front door opened. 

“I’m home!”

“Welcome back!” Noya called out in unison with his father. From upstairs, twin voices echoed the greeting. Noya’s siblings, hard at work on their homework. They were already smarter than him. At the tender ages of seven and nine. He was so damn proud he insisted every one of their tests go on the fridge until the thing resembled a stationary shop.

Ria Nishinoya came stumbling into the kitchen, her hair falling into her eyes and her briefcase practically dragging on the floor. She leaned against the china cabinet, groaning loudly.

“Yū, be a dear and get your mother a whiskey,” she mumbled.

“You said last time that if I complied with a dark alcohol request past seven on a school night you’d club me over the head with your Nakamura files,” Noya said firmly. 

Ria let out a quiet whine and turned her head to the side to stare at her son.

“…A beer, then,” she mumbled.

“Here you are, dear. Have a seat.”

Ria glanced up at her husband, clasping the offered beer against her chest. She stood up on tiptoe to kiss him and Noya made the requisite gagging noise and looked away, his stomach giving a lurch that had nothing to do with his parents being affectionate dweebs.

Kissing. God, he’d never even wanted to do it in the first place. Maybe a bit of hesitant curiosity, but, well, that had been dragged kicking and screaming into the harsh light of reality.

Overrated. And more importantly—

“Gross,” he muttered, and then let out a squawk as one of his mother’s slippers made contact with his temple. 

Ria settled down at the table as though nothing had happened. She sipped her beer, staring over the rim of the can at Noya.

“And how was school today?”

“Fine,” Noya said, sitting ramrod straight in his chair. He wanted to be alone. His mother was too good at interrogation. It was what she did for a living and why Noya was unable to keep anything to himself. He’d been trained since he could talk to vent whatever he was feeling or thinking because his mother would be able to pry it out of him eventually anyway and it was easier to admit defeat from the outset than get your Playstation taken away for being ‘difficult’ for the ten thousandth time.

Thankfully his siblings barreling down the stairs saved him from the inquisition. Suzu sat down at the table and immediately launched into an overblown tale about the class hamster, while the quieter Taka sat down with one of his workbooks, dutifully copying the characters. He glanced up from the pages after a moment, peering at his older brother through his long, brown bangs.

“…You look sad,” he said quietly. “Are you sad?”

Noya gave his younger brother a winning smile and ruffled his hair. “Nope! Just a long practice today is all. Coach is working us pretty hard.”

Taka sat up straighter, looking anxious.

“Did you hurt yourself today?”

“Nope again! Not even a bruise today.” Noya said proudly, grabbing the bowl of karaage chicken as it was passed to him. He dumped some on his plate before picking a few pieces out for Taka. 

“Oh phew,” Taka said with a little puff of air, hunching over his workbook again. “Suzu says you’re um. Reckless.” He looked up at his sister for confirmation on the big word.

Suzu tugged at her ponytail, the large, heart-shaped baubles on the elastics clicking together loudly. “Taka, you’re not suppose to tell him that,” she hissed, her eyes darting nervously to the side to stare at Noya. “Yū’s a very sensitive soul.”

Taka shrank back in his seat, mumbling an apology (even as Noya let out a loud ‘HA’ of laughter) before his mother told him in a weary voice to put the homework away and start eating. The youngest Nishinoya reluctantly took his chopsticks and started picking at his food. Before their mother could launch into interrogation mode again, Suzu once more dominated the conversation, describing in great detail a customer who had walked into their father’s salon.

Noya sat back in his chair, his plate of half-eaten food left otherwise untouched, silently thanking God, Buddha, whoever for the distraction. Dinners were a horrible Russian roulette of his mother yelling at him to focus more on his studies or yelling at Taka to focus on them less. Suzu got yelled at for being loud but she was otherwise the perfectly balanced golden child of the family. Most of the time Noya didn’t mind. Especially on days like this where he wanted nothing more than to go curl up under a blanket until the badness in his chest oozed out and he could be normal again.

Somehow he had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He managed to slip away while his dad and Suzu did the dishes. His mother had flipped on her true crime dramas, which meant absolutely zero chance of her engaging another human being in conversation. She usually fell asleep in front of the TV so all Noya had to do was not wake her up and piss her off.

He slunk into his room before anyone noticed he was gone and carefully slid the fusuma doors shut. He could still hear the television on the other side of the wall, so he grabbed his headphones and tugged them on. No music. Just the muffled ringing of his own ears. He needed to concentrate.

Ryū had sent him about fifteen messages. Mostly apologies. Casual speculations on Noya’s current mood. Mostly negative.

Noya typed up a quick reply. /stop it, i'm not mad that you care enough about me to agonize in front of your computer all night. i'm doing homework and going to bed. see you tomorrow./

Before giving Ryū a chance to respond, he logged out and then hunched over his math homework, forcing his brain into the special prison he’d constructed for it when it was work time. He was behind several assignments (and had been spacing out in class) so it took him four times that of a normal person to get through it.

And when he woke up, bleary-eyed and disoriented at four in the morning, he had a pencil shoved halfway up his nose and a piece of paper glued to his cheek with drool.

Noya scratched off the paper and pushed the pencil to a safe distance away. He slowly lay back, staring at the ceiling. Four in the morning was just a little early. Even for him. He didn’t remember falling asleep but he was ready to marry his math homework for knocking him out like it had. He’d been convinced that he was going to lay awake all night obsessing about gym walls. Dusty trainers.   
Another boy’s scratchy chin against his.

Normal guy things.

With a little growl Noya pushed himself up and began hunting around for some workout clothes. He hadn’t gotten to take his bath last night which meant that he was going to run until he broke something or came close, then return home, take a bath, eat an unnecessarily large breakfast, and leave for practice at the last possible moment.

He tugged on an already-disgusting T-shirt and shorts and then quietly snuck out of his room. His parents liked to yell at him for his morning runs no matter how many times he told them the only people he ever ran into were sanitation workers, and they were all very nice albeit a bit judgmental about how poorly his family sorted their trash.

The latch clicked softly into place behind him.

Noya tapped his toes against the pavement, getting comfortable in his shoes. The damp morning air clung to his skin; low mist hovering above the ground, disappearing whenever he drew closer to look.

And it was beautifully, wonderfully quiet. Inside and out.

With a little breath Noya took off, the first thud of his trainers against the concrete sending chills down his spine.

He ran along the rainwater canal. It circled the park, the small temple, the convenience stores dotted around the train station like mushrooms on a rotten log. The mist grew thicker the farther he went. The 7-11 was just an orange and green glow. The streetlights blinked a muted red. Were he in a better mood or running solely for fun rather than for avoidance, he would have immediately cast himself into Lord of the Rings or Batman or that show about adolescent ninjas his siblings screamed about. But there were already too many figures hidden just on the other side of the mist. He was scared to look directly at them. Doing so would give them faces, faces would conjure words, memories, and then BOOM the flimsy walls he’d shut in his head would be smashed down and it was too early for thinking. 

After only a half an hour, however, Noya could feel the air starting to lighten. He gritted his teeth and pushed his body to move faster. He wasn’t done yet. He needed more of the quiet, he wasn’t ready. Not for day. Not for waking up.

As he rounded the corner he nearly gutted himself on a bike rack. Instead of dying alone and impaled by handlebars, however, he merely banged his shin to hell and fell heavily on his ass.

Noya sat there stunned for a moment, blinking cold sweat out of his eyes. His fingers moved on their own to card through his hair, as he absently noted that his legs were shaking. Oh right. Practice yesterday. There had been a part before the gym wall. Kind of a long part where he’d been exhausted.

Noya glanced around, unsure of where his feet had taken him. 

Through the mist he caught sight of a station name.

It was the one two down the line from his house.

Running had been a fucking stupid idea.

Groaning loudly, Noya pushed himself to his feet. He dusted his legs off, glad there was no blood from his collision, and then slowly started jogging back the way he’d came. Guess that meant no leisurely breakfast. It would take him at least forty minutes to get back, and bath over food. The kitchen ran the risk of interaction.

He managed to keep his body in a state of exhaustion long enough to stave off any unwanted moping. He was practically limping by the time he got home, but his family was still asleep. Before six. Of course they were.

He tugged off his sweat-soaked clothes and headed into the downstairs bath, quickly washing himself before easing into the warm bathwater.

Which turned out to be a mistake. The moment he closed his eyes and tried to relax, Asahi’s face assaulted the backs of his eyelids. Noya let out a desperate moan and dunked his whole head under, opening his eyes to stare up through the water. Maybe he should drown. Not permanently or totally. Just enough to kill the brain cells that housed his memories from yesterday. That’s how brain cells worked, right. 

He stayed under for a long time, trying to recall as much of the script from Die Hard as he could. English wasn’t his strong suit. Nothing was, really, but for action movies he at least made an effort. They tended to clean up the language in the subtitles, which was fucking disappointing because you lost the raw passion only a good curse word could provide.

How did it go.

Yippie. Yippie something. Something motherfucker.

“Motherfucker,” Noya mumbled, watching his word bubbles float up to pop on the surface. He slowly pushed himself up until he could breathe through his nose, and then fell still.

His body ached. And he felt very old.

He could hear footsteps upstairs, on the landing, down into the kitchen. He imagined the quiet dinging of the bell at the altar. His father’s low voice chanting. And suddenly he wanted nothing more than to hear it. The quiet dinging of the bell, the familiarity.

Noya hoisted himself out of the bath, quickly drying off before tugging on a T-shirt and his uniform pants. He tiptoed through the house to sit in his room on the other side of the fusuma. Without really knowing why, he pressed his hands together and bowed his head like he’d watched his father do so many times when he’d been smaller. Clinging to ritual. Wasn’t that something people did to keep from going crazy. He was fairly certain most religions were based on ritual for that reason. Repetition. The same litanies, the same quiet chime of a bell, droning of voices.

Noya slowly opened his eyes and stared miserably at the doors in front of him.

He wasn’t okay.

He mindlessly scrubbed at his face, pushing damp hair off his forehead.

He really wasn’t okay.

Breakfast was silent. His father had wished him a good morning after shuffling out of the formal room, but Noya was the only one in the family who could stand to be awake before nine. The rest of them suffered through the morning hours out of necessity and tended to get homicidal if they were forced to speak more than a few pleasantries.

Noya nibbled at his toast, not really interested in tasting it. Morning practice started in thirty five minutes. It was a twenty minute walk to school. He had fifteen minutes to pull himself together. If he showed up looking like he’d spent the night marathoning sad dog movies, practice would be even worse than yesterday’s. Which would honestly be an unholy miracle, but stranger things had happened. 

Noya raised his hand in greeting at his little sister as she shuffled into the kitchen. She just grunted at him and grabbed a bowl, dumping rice into it before huddling underneath the table to eat. Her usual routine. Noya lightly poked her in the side with his big toe. She growled and swatted at him before retreating to a safe distance, muttering, “Freak,” under her breath.

That made Noya retreat, the completely normal insult digging a bit deeper than it normally would have. He pulled the crusts off his half-masticated pieces of toast before abandoning them. His stomach was starting to cramp from nervousness already. 

“Yū – you can’t eat half a piece of bread for breakfast,” his father said wearily, voice slightly muffled by the table against which his head was firmly pressed. “You’ll never grow if you don’t –”

“Dad, I love you, but I kind of can’t handle that right now okay,” Noya said with forced cheer, heading back into his room. He could feel his father and sister staring at him, caught off guard, but he simply closed the doors to his room.

God he wished he had a slamable door.

He waited until the typhoon that was his mother descended on the kitchen, snapping at Kōyō and Suzu to get in gear they were going to miss the train and Taka god where was   
Taka TAKA YOU GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES. His family was pushed from their lethargy into a frenzy, and in that chaos Noya grabbed his bag and quietly slipped out.

The street was a different monster than it had been two hours ago. Even down their quiet side street, people walked at a ludicrous speed towards the station, heads bowed. The high-pitched whine of scooter engines reverberated against the densely packed buildings. The rattling of shutters as they were opened. The old Italian car repair shop. The family liquor store.

Noya stuck to the back streets, cutting through the temple grounds towards school. A monk scolded him to get out of the graveyard, there were people trying to pray. He quickly made himself scarce by vaulting over the temple walls. He landed heavily, the shock waking him up as much as his run had.

But then there, just down the hill, was the first slice of barren school yard.

Noya’s steps slowed at the entrance to the gym. It was blissfully silent.

With a heavy sigh of relief he fished the spare key out of his bag and let himself inside. He quickly changed into his practice clothes, regretting that he hadn’t checked to see which T-shirt he’d grabbed. Ryū would probably comment on the idiom at some point and then he’d know.

After taking a warm up lap around the gym he headed to the supply closet and dragged out the poles and net. He had to wrestle the poles into the slots in the floor, nearly losing his balance several times. But after only a few minutes everything was set up. It was normally the first years’ job to get the net ready, or had been when he’d been a first year, but Daichi was more of the ‘team effort’ sort of captain. 

Doubtful anyone would care.

Noya tugged one of the ball carts out. He served a few, just for fun (and to remind himself that he still could) and then got to work.

He hefted a ball across the net and then sprinted to the other side, receiving the ‘serve’ and sending it over again. 

“One,” he muttered, keeping count as he sprinted back and forth.

“Five.”

He rolled under the net, popping up just in time to save the ball.

“Nine.”

He heard the door open but was too busy making sure he didn’t hit the net ducking under to see who it was. Whoever they were, they left him alone. Thank god.

“Eleven.”

A quiet shuffling noise behind him. Noya ignored it. 

He received the ball to the setter’s position this time, not wanting to hog the court if there was someone else there.

Long fingers cupped the ball as it fell, and gently pushed it back up in a graceful arc. Noya swiped his hair out of his eyes, tracking the trajectory. On a whim he made an approach, a million times practicing the movement in middle school coming back to him. 

His hand made contact with the ball, sending it straight into the net at a furious speed. It dropped to the floor like a stone, and Noya couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped his lips. He was pathetic in the air. He’d known it since day one, despite constant reassurances that he would grow and then the awkward reassignments years later when his body failed to meet expectations.

He landed and finally looked over to see who had set.

Pale eyes scrutinized him from behind dark frame glasses. 

Noya mentally cringed.

Oh.

Tsukishima jogged over to the ball and picked it up, spinning it in his hands. His eyes flicked down again, studying Noya for a moment before he made his way back to the serve line.

“Good morning.”

Noya blinked in surprise at the greeting but quickly rallied himself.

“M-Morning!” he said cheerfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re early, Tsukishima.”

“Could say the same about you. Er. I could. Or whatever.”

The blonde’s tone grew surlier with each word, the polite language sticking in his throat. He served the ball and grabbed another, methodically repeating the steps. Noya hustled over to the other side of the court in time to receive one, content to work in silence if that’s what Tsukishima wanted.

Suddenly Tsukishima paused, still holding out the ball in his left hand. Noya blinked and straightened up, tilting his head to the side. What? He asked his question silently, in deference to his teammate’s idiosyncrasies. Tsukishima had an odd look on his face. Almost angry, but with his slanted eyebrows it was probably hard for him to look anything but.

The blonde let out a little breath and then served again, whatever mood had taken hold of him passing.

“That was a good approach.”

Noya nearly missed the receive he was so surprised. He rubbed the back of his neck, flustered.

“Well – I mean, I went to camp. We weren’t allowed to use liberos in elementary school and first year of middle school so I had to work with other positions,” he explained, falling back into the rhythm Tsukishima was setting with his serves. “But thanks. You’re one of like, two to see it. Don’t wanna blind the rest of the team.”

“It wasn’t that good,” Tsukishima muttered, rolling his eyes so hard Noya could see the motion from clear across the court. “And with your height I don’t know what you were expecting to happen. I mean. It. It turned out as well as could be expected. I think.”

Noya let out a burst of laughter, Tsukishima’s blatant disdain for him so goddamn refreshing he could cry. The first year was an asshole, but he was so self-assured in his contempt that it was hard for Noya to resent him. Or even be annoyed by him. He appreciated people who were upfront.

Probably explained some things.

Noya calmed down and flashed Tsukishima a grin, ignoring the disturbed look on the younger boy’s face. He was just about to tease Tsukishima for his inability to string a polite sentence together when the door to the gym opened. The third years entered, talking animatedly amongst themselves.

Noya caught the first glimpse of Asahi’s outline, the early morning sun throwing his face into shadow. That quickly throttled the scant relief he’d found. He quickly looked away and busied himself with collecting the balls scattered around the gym. Too soon. Way too fucking soon. Needed more of a buffer. Hinata or Ryū, one of the loud ones.

He listened to Daichi approach Tsukishima, commending him for arriving early and setting up the net. When Tsukishima started to mutter that it was already done when he’d come in, Noya hurled a ball in his direction and pressed a finger to his lips. Tsukishima gave him a sour look but quietly amended his speech. Noya could feel Daichi looking at him curiously, but before the captain could interrogate him the rest of the team arrived and he was forced to be captainly on a more general level.

Daichi launched into his usual morning spiel. Goals for the day, things he’d noticed during practice the day before. After the intense conditioning they’d had, they’d be doing just a bit of warm up and then a practice match. Noya breathed a sigh of relief. A match, even a practice one, would ensure his total concentration. It was what he was best at. Bifurcating his brain and leaving the human part on the other side of the lines on the floor, keeping only instinct with him. Even if he was failing a class or had lost his favorite collector’s edition DVD or had overheard a conversation in the girls’ bathroom about how he looked like the twelve-year-old protagonist of an RPG game or his fucking coward of a teammate had kissed him yesterday and his sanity was slowly unraveling 

It stayed off the court.

As they split off to warm up individually, Noya allowed himself a single glance at Asahi. His back was already turned to him. And, unfortunately, since they didn’t live in a romance novel or a drama about tough but brotherly soldiers fighting together on the front lines, the slant of Asahi’s shoulders and posture told Noya next to nothing.

But Asahi obviously hadn’t slept. Had probably skipped breakfast too. His hair was too messy, he’d just gotten up a few minutes ago. Asahi wasn’t really a morning person in general (the irony of which Noya had appreciated in simpler times) but the five o’clock shadow was a bit extreme. Even for him.

Okay fuck it the guy had expressive shoulders. They were broad, they did things. Whatever.

Noya swallowed his normal lecture and jogged over to Ryū. His friend was only half awake and was leaning against the wall, half-heartedly stretching. His eyes widened a bit when he caught sight of Noya.

“…Mornin’.”

“Good morning.”

Noya settled in next to the other second year, doing his own stretches as he watched the rest of the team. Each in their little pairs or threes. 

“So Asahi looks. Unrested.”

Noya glanced at Ryū in surprise. “You noticed?”

“Wouldn’t have, except that I caught you staring at him with this pinched look on your face. You used to get like that right before you yelled at him about breakfast and the importance of balancing nutrients and cartoon animals selling cereal products.” Ryū coughed discreetly. “Should I assume that the reason he’s tired is the reason you’re not lecturing him today?”

“Don’t act cute, you know that’s why,” Noya mumbled, torn between vindication and honest worry. He snuck another glance at Asahi. Suga was helping him stretch. He had his worried mother hen face on. Not good. Asahi himself was staring blankly at the floor, a few pieces of hair falling in his eyes.

“…Well this bodes well,” Ryū groaned, letting his head gently hit the side of the gym. “I mean, you guys said some heated stuff yesterday but that’s – shit, if I acted like you guys did every time I fought with my sister I’d have checked myself into the psych ward long ago.”

“Okay, harsh, first of all,” Noya said sharply. “And that’s – it. Other. Thing! Other thing – fuck.” He clamped his hands over his mouth, stubbornly furrowing his brow. To tell Ryū or not. For some reason telling him had never seemed like an option before, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was going to go crazy if he didn’t tell someone. It was a miracle he’d kept it secret this long and just blurting it out was an increasing inevitability. One he’d like to try circumventing. Controlled leaks of information.

Noya licked his lips, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead as he tugged his arm across his chest.

“…You’ve gotta swear – not just a normal swear but the strongest one you can make, first year crush confession level – that you won’t tell anyone.”

Ryū immediately looked interested, eyebrows shooting all the way up to his widow’s peak. He nodded.

“You got it, man.” His eyes darted over to fix on Asahi for a moment, scrutinizing, before focusing on Noya again. “Not a soul.”

“Okay.”

Noya swung his arms a few times to loosen them. Stalling, really, but he could feel the words bubbling up in his chest. And it was going to be such a relief to say them, it was almost worth Ryū’s inevitable meltdown.

“Yesterday – Asahi, he… fuck, I don’t know how to eloquently word this.” Noya cracked his knuckles with a neurotic fixation, forcing his mind to go blank so he would just fucking say it.

“Yesterday Asahi k—”

“Line up!”

“GOD DAMMIT.”

Everyone turned to stare at Noya. Daichi looked especially unhinged. Next to him Ryū was barely keeping it together. His eyes were nearly bugging out of his skull.

It took Noya a half a second to recover.

“God dammit I’m – I’m just so excited!” he yelled, kneeing Ryū in the small of his back. “Practice match! Shirts and skins – battle of wills!”

“…We’re not actually stripping at seven fifteen in the morning, Noya,” Suga said gently, his patient ‘deal with the children’ tone firmly in place. “The net’s generally a good indicator of who’s on which team.”

“R-Right! Right. Yes. Hypothetical skins and – okay. Sorry, Dai, just. All this vigor. Needs an outlet,” Noya stammered. “I’ll just – just put myself on this team.” He laughed too loudly and jogged to the other side of the net. He could still feel the rest of the team staring at him and hear Ryū’s half-hearted attempts to stifle his laughter. Asshole.

Noya ducked his head to hide how pale his face was and pretended to continue stretching as one by one Daichi divvied them up. Asahi was on the other side of the net, and Noya wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He lifted his head slightly to stare through the blonde streak in his bangs.

Asahi’s eyes were narrowed, fixating on the floor with an intensity he usually only reserved for stubborn instant ramen lids. Right before he ripped them in half.

Noya quickly lowered his gaze again, his stomach clenching.

Good thing.

Kageyama had first serve. It was an easy receive, and Suga set Ryū up for a textbook first kill. Their ball. Served by Kinoshita. Received by Daichi. Set to Tsukishima. Two steps forward, quick quick, ball hitting just above his wrists, elbow crooked, shoulders tilted.

Textbook.

The gym slowly dissolved down to the few square feet of court. Each yell, each reverberation of the ball against the court, against lightly marred skin, chipped away the outside world. Noya blinked sweat out of his eyes, throwing Suga a little smile when the setter praised him.

“Asahi!”

Kageyama’s fingers cradled the ball for a split second, his blue eyes trained on a spot just a little away from the net. He hardly projected at all. If Noya hadn’t made an effort to observe him for a while now he’d have a hard time reading him at all.

The spiker, on the other hand.

Noya got into position before the ball even met Asahi’s palm. No spin. Barely any power.

“Suga!”

Calling his target was overkill. The ball went up in a perfect arc. Suga didn’t even need to move.

Ennoshita got his first kill of the game.

Noya straightened up, pulled from his focus for a moment by his teammates patting him on the back, their voices strained with excitement and admiration. Perfect receive off a spike – one of the ace’s even! Noya grinned and let himself bask in the praise for a moment before giving himself a needed reality check. That had barely counted as a spike. Daichi obviously knew it from the way he was quietly talking with Asahi. Asahi looked flustered and upset and was nodding way, way too fast he was going to scramble his brains and he needed those. Idiot stop nodding. Stop saying sorry just do a better job next time.

Tsukishima’s nasally voice cut through the frivolity. Were they done worshiping the libero yet and was it okay if he served. Everyone quickly got back into position and the match resumed. Noya fell easily back once more, basking in the simplicity of his job. The next rally Kageyama set to Asahi again. The ball came straight to him and he could have cried from how perfect his receive was. Set, Ryū spiked. They were up by three.

Up by five.

By six.

And slowly, very slowly, Noya’s attention was dragged to the other side of the net. He withheld judgment for one last rally. Hinata spiked, Noya lunged but missed the receive. Typical. He still wasn’t used to their combo, he’d get there. Withholding judgment part two. Finally a set to Asahi and

There.

Noya took a tiny step back to receive, his stomach lurching as the anger of realization nearly made him lose it.

Every single one of Asahi’s attacks was aimed straight at him. 

Which would have been fine. Would have been welcomed, even, because Asahi at his best was fucking difficult as hell to handle, incredible power and control and a wicked backspin that made Noya’s forearms blistering red from one receive.

This wasn’t Asahi at his best.

In a word, this was fucking pathetic.

Two words. Whatever.

Noya stood up straight, glaring daggers at the other side of the net. He heard Suga set, heard Kinoshita call for the toss in a vacuum. Heard the ball hit the court too loudly, everyone else falling silent as well, one by one. Daichi cleared his throat and rallied his team, patting Asahi on the back even as he quietly lectured him. Asahi rubbed his neck, not with his usual sheepish grin. He looked tired. He looked defeated and they were only down by eight.

“Noya.”

Suga’s voice made Noya jump. He looked at the setter, and Suga wordlessly pointed to his position before saying softly, “You’ll get a technical. We rotated again, remember?”

Noya nodded and got back into position. He tried to tug his head back, to lose himself again, but his focus was crumbling. The rally went on for a few exchanges until Kageyama called out Asahi’s name once again, a note of stubborn determination in his voice. Asahi’s approach was flawless, his huge frame leaving the court in a perfectly controlled arch.

At the last second, his eyes flicked down. The hair on the back of Noya’s neck stood up as brown eyes fixed on his face. Just for a moment, but it was apparently enough.

Asahi’s form crumpled. His hand hit the ball with a resigned implosion, and Noya lost it.

He did his job. He darted into position, two fucking centimeters to his right. He got the ball to Suga; let the spikers have their glory moment. But the second the ball hit the floor, he stood up straight, teeth bared, eyes fixed on Asahi. On the coward on the other side of the net.

“Asahi!”

The gym was wrenched back into focus. Noya could feel himself breathing heavily, his heart pounding heavy in his ears. Across the net Asahi cast him a sideways glance, wary and defeated.

“What.”

Noya dug his hands into his hair, tugging hard so he wouldn’t start cursing out his upperclassman.

“What the hell was that?!”

Well shit.

Asahi’s eye twitched and he took a slight step towards the net.

“It’s morning, Nishinoya. And I’m really tired so can we save this for later?” he asked, his voice polite and distant. Like he was talking to the lady who pressed floor buttons in an elevator. 

It set Noya’s teeth on edge. His blood boiled, his whole nervous system clawed underneath his skin for him to yell, to rush to the other side of the court and do what Ryū had begged him to. Sock Asahi in the jaw. Make him feel even a tenth of this loss. The court was the one place Noya had focus and purpose. The one place he could completely shove away all the external badness in his life that prickled at the edge of his consciousness. Being short and stupid and unpopular with girls and the dumbest in his family with no future outside of his dad’s salon and Asahi had stolen that one, last refuge. Had taken Noya’s devotion and twisted it to make him hate the bags under Asahi’s eyes instead of worrying about them because what did Asahi have to be troubled about. What did he have to lose sleep over. He’d kissed him. He’d kissed him, it was his action, his impulse his mistake. And now he was moping like he had any right to be sad or jaded or upset that his life’s first bit of intimacy had been forced on him during a screaming match with a teammate instead of something shared and kind, quiet in the back row of a movie theater during a horror movie. Where she would let out a little gasp and bury her face in your shoulder and take your hand and you’d finally, finally feel true worth outside of numbers on a scoreboard.

It was too much.

Noya felt his control slipping. Slipping and there it went.

“You’re pathetic!”

“Nishinoya!”

Noya ignored Daichi’s disapproving yell. His focus had boiled down to one point again. Asahi was staring back towards him, his eyes fixed on a point just over his left shoulder. Asahi’s lips were pressed in a thin line, but his broad shoulders were thrown back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He remained silent, and that, that was so much fucking worse than anything he could have said.

Noya let out a frustrated snarl, pushing Ryū aside to storm towards the net.

“Oh, what, cat got your tongue finally?! Nothin’ to say in your defense? Not gonna yell back this time, not gonna push me around?!”

“Noya – please, now’s not really the place—” Suga said firmly, resting his hand on Noya’s shoulder. Noya pushed the setter’s hand away, Suga’s words barely registering. All he could hear was Asahi. The quiet hitch in his breathing, the creak of his shoes as he shifted his weight.

And still he remained silent. Asahi turned on his heel and made his way back to his position, gesturing slightly towards Tsukishima.

“Your serve. Practice time is running out.”

Tsukishima twirled the ball in his hands, his pale eyes sliding to the side to focus on Noya. Noya could feel the first year scrutinizing him, waiting with disinterested deference for whatever this was to settle so he could serve.

Noya held out for a few seconds more. The burning in his gut was mutating slowly, anger into shock. Into hurt.

Asahi remained quiet, and Noya felt his resolve crack.

“…Fine.”

He jogged back to his position, planting his feet and pointing a finger at Asahi. The third year wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Had to be dramatic somehow, couldn’t draw attention to the fact that he wanted to throw up from how upset he was. Like a first grader whose friend had gone off to play with the other kids during recess.

“Asahi.”

The spiker gave him the courtesy of a sideways look. Noya narrowed his eyes.

Yippiee ki yay motherfucker.

“If you send an attack like that over again, I won’t receive it,” he said firmly. “I’d rather let it fall.”

He shook out his arms and let his body retreat back into receive position. The rest of the team shuffled awkwardly around for a moment, obviously trying not to stare at Asahi. Asahi himself was looking straight ahead, but his legs were shaking. Noya dismissed the motion, his focus returning the moment Tsukishima hit the ball.

So this was it.

Daichi received, Kageyama set to Narita. Noya received, watching with dispassionate pride as Suga easily set his pass. Nice to know he could still do his job. That the clarity could return. He watched Ryū’s attack go slightly outside. Hinata received it anyway and Kageyama was quick to set. 

Asahi’s feet left the floor. His back arched perfectly, his elbow bent, fingertips guiding where the swing would follow.

Noya realized a second too late why he recognized the look on Asahi’s face. He took an instinctive step back, shoulders hunching and hands open, ready. Asahi’s hand slammed into the ball, the sound reverberating off the gym walls like a gunshot.

Noya stepped back again, the animal part of his brain reading the attack before his mind could catch up.

And even then it was still too slow.

Pain exploded in his head, his vision blurring for a horrifying moment before he registered the white spots above him. The gym ceiling lights. And the dark spots around him. The faces of the rest of his team.

Oh.

Noya blinked carefully and tried to move, cursing when he realized that was very bad for his brain. It felt like a milkshake in his head. He squeezed his eyes closed. Why were his lips wet.

“Noya!”

“Noya – oh my god there’s blood—”

“Noyaaaaa Noya nooo nooo are you okay?!”

“Noya your nose is a literal fountain of blood can I put this on Vine—”

“Nishinoya—”

The last voice caught Noya’s attention.

He slowly opened his eyes, scanning the concerned faces until he found the one he was looking for.

Asahi was crouched over him. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish gasping for water. Hands fluttering around in front of his chest, unsure of where they should be. His brown eyes were wide. Dumb giraffe-length lashes slightly wet. Red around the irises.

Looking at him.

Finally.

Noya threw an arm over his eyes, feeling his lips curve up into a weak grin. Everyone fell silent until all he could hear was Asahi’s uneven breathing.

“Asahi.”

The floor creaked as Asahi shifted.

“Y-Yeah?”

Noya let out a little breath and moved his arm. He stared up at Asahi and then slowly raised his hand, palm towards the third year.

“That was a hell of a spike.”

Asahi tensed, staring at Noya’s hand as though it were a viper. He caved in on himself, pressing his palms against his eyes. After a moment, he gave a single nod and then stretched out a hand, lightly tapping it against Noya’s before covering his face once more.

The rest of the team looked on in silence, the tension in the air viscous and uncomfortable. Suddenly Ryū leaned over to whisper gingerly in Suga’s ear, “I can’t tell which one of them is more broken up about this.”

There was a second’s pause, and then Daichi let out an ugly snort. He quickly tried to cover it with a cough, but the damage was done. Noya threw an arm across his eyes again as laughter strangled the other, more pathetic option his vocal cords had been edging towards. One by one the rest of the team began laughing too, the tension leaving them until they were slapping Noya’s knee and nudging him with their feet, teasing him about pulling a Hinata and catching the ball with his face.

Noya finally managed to sit up. He shoved Ryū aside when his friend tried to assist him, expressing worry that he’d broken a hip. The moment Noya was upright, though, blood began gushing from his nose again. He quickly pulled up his shirt, pressing it against his nose to stem the flow. Asahi was still hunched over next to him, his eyes even redder and his cheeks slightly wet.

Noya quickly looked away, wanting to give Asahi some privacy after messing up so bad on that front the day before. Unfortunately the motion made a few drops of blood splatter onto Yamaguchi’s legs, and the ear-shattering scream he let out made Daichi have to yell to calm everyone down they were laughing so hard.

“Quiet! Shut up, all of– Yamaguchi stop gagging, it’s two drops!” 

Daichi ran his fingers through his short hair and then cast a pleading look Suga’s way.

“Can you take Noya to the nurse’s room? Practice is almost over and—”

“I can do it.”

The whole team fell awkwardly silent again, staring at Asahi. The third year pushed himself to his feet, scrubbing at his face with one large hand.

“I can do it, Daichi. It’s my fault, anyway.”

“Well I’m not debating that,” Daichi said dryly, giving Noya a questioning glance. “But I think Noya probably—”

“I don’t require an escort,” Noya said, offended. It would have sounded more forceful if he weren’t holding his ruined shirt to his hemorrhaging nose.

“You’ll probably just go in the bathroom and shove tissue up your nose until it’s fixed. You need a supervisor,” Daichi said, raising an eyebrow. “It doesn’t have to be Azumane but someone needs to make sure you take care of yourself properly. We all remember the dislocated shoulder of last season.” He held up a hand the moment Ryū opened his mouth. “Someone you can’t bribe into looking the other way when you set your nose yourself.”

Ryū cast him an apologetic look. Noya bit back another protest, knowing better than to argue with Daichi when he was in parental unit mode. He gave a contrite nod, cursing when that made his nose turn into a geyser again. Suga would be too smothering. He’d make the nurse check everything properly and he’d miss first period. While that was normally a non-issue, he didn’t want his parents to get another note from the school.

“Asahi can take me,” he said, not letting himself think about it anymore. An olive branch was an olive branch, after all. Worse came to worse he could whack Asahi in the shins with it.

The look of surprise and nauseated apprehension on Asahi’s face made Noya regret the decision almost immediately. 

“O-Okay,” Asahi stammered, backpedaling a bit to let Noya leave the group that had clustered around him. Noya kept his head tilted back, feeling like a reject extra from a zombie movie as he staggered towards the door. Daichi yelled at everyone to get back on the court, practice wasn’t over just because someone got their face caved in, move it. The reassuring thud of a serve followed, voices calling out receives, sets, mixing much easier than they had before.

Noya paused at the door, trying to remember how many steps there were down to the sidewalk, two or three. Behind him he could hear Asahi shuffling from foot to foot, waiting nervously, restlessly for him to move. Suddenly Asahi stilled.

“It’s three.”

His deep voice nearly made Noya jump down the damn stairs. He mumbled a quick thanks and headed out of the gym, counting one two three. He kept his eyes trained on the awning above the walkway, letting it guide him towards the main building.

“Step.”

Noya obeyed Asahi’s quiet prompting without thought. It should have made him angry. He wanted so badly to still be angry, but with Asahi already upset, his voice timid and afraid, it was like kicking a dog.

Noya bit his lip and remained quiet the entire way to the nurse’s station. The nurse let out a horribly loud sigh when he walked in. He waggled his fingers in her direction.

“Hello again.”

“Mr. Nishinoya. I would ask what the trouble is this time, but your embarrassingly patriotic shirt says it all.”

Noya laughed, cursing softly when that made his nose ache. The nurse lightly hit his arm and then barked, “Sit. Now.”

Noya sat.

She yanked the T-shirt away and began prodding and poking before she finally noticed Asahi. She gave him a winning smile and said kindly, “You can head back to practice, Mr. Azumane. Thank you.”

Asahi rubbed his wrist, eyes darting to the side for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“I, um – our captain wanted me to –… c-can I stay with him?”

“…I suppose,” the nurse said slowly, obviously a bit annoyed at the intrusion but not wanting to say anything. Asahi gave her a thankful nod and then sat down in the chair next to the bed, his back ramrod straight. Noya did his best to ignore the other boy, chatting up the nurse as she scolded him for being ‘stupidly reckless’ again. It didn’t take long for him to make her laugh, though, and when she was called away to handle a minor emergency on the baseball field she left him with a few supplies and told him he could take care of it himself, no broken bones.

Noya waited until the door closed before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god,” he mumbled, prodding carefully at his nose. He twisted one of the little cotton things and shoved it up his nostril, wincing slightly.

“Careful – ah.”

Noya glanced up at Asahi, one eyebrow raised. Asahi was sitting on the edge of his seat, biting his bottom lip. He looked like he wanted to say something and was waiting for someone to push him into his words. Noya quickly lost patience.

“What?”

Asahi winced, his hand returning to his wrist, and then said hesitantly, “If you’re not gentle when you do that you’ll make it worse, you know.” 

Noya glanced down at the cotton thing and then held it out towards Asahi, a challenging look on his face.

“All right. I’ll leave it to an expert, then.”

For a moment Asahi looked his normal self – slightly chagrined, slightly exasperated, mostly embarrassed – before the look of utter apprehension returned. He reached out and carefully plucked the cotton out of Noya’s grip, taking obvious care not to let his fingers touch Noya’s. The chair made a horrible noise against the tile as he scooted forward, and Noya made a face.

And then he realized just what his vendetta-focused brain had asked Asahi to do.

His eyes widened when Asahi leaned in. But before he could snap that he’d been joking, back the fuck off especially after yesterday, a gentle hand was cupping his chin. Noya jerked away instinctively, and Asahi tightened his grip just a bit, his voice quiet yet commanding as he said softly, “Hold still, Nishinoya.”

Noya froze, torn between obeying the commands from his upperclassman as he had for a year and a half and running like he’d wanted to do yesterday. Before he could make up his mind, Asahi pressed the cotton against his nose.

“Hold it there. Gently.”

Noya held the cotton as Asahi pushed it up to stop the bleeding completely. Noya caught a glimpse of Asahi’s expression. Focused. Intent.

It was such a nostalgic expression Noya forgot to be awkward and upset. He watched Asahi’s face, drinking in the look of quiet confidence and concern he’d missed so badly. Something in him nearly cried out in desperation when it slowly began to slip away and the Asahi of recent days returned. Until there was nothing of the ace left.

Suddenly Asahi pulled back, all flustered hands and darting eyes again. He pushed his chair away and gave a sharp nod.

“That should do it. We can probably head back now but – do you have another shirt?”

“In my locker in the club room,” Noya responded automatically, sliding off the bed. Asahi gave him an empty smile and then stood as well, heading towards the door. Noya watched him grab hold of the handle to slide it open, and when he heard the voices of students on the other side an odd panic took over him.

If they left, it would stay. Just like this.

“Asahi.”

Asahi froze, his hand on the door handle.

Noya squared his shoulders, trying to ignore how stupid he felt with two things of cotton shoved up his nose and blood staining his shirt. Shit he hoped it wasn’t his ‘knocked down seven get up eight’ one. He’d forgotten to have Ryū check.

“Asahi – I can’t do this again.”

He took a step forward, letting his tongue say whatever it wanted. All he could taste was blood and it was driving him to spit it out on the ground between them. Give them marks to stand on. At least they’d where the other was.

“I’m so tired of yelling. I was tired yesterday – today was a surprise I didn’t think I had any left in me.” Noya let out a little breath, feeling lighter. Or maybe that was just the blood loss. Asahi was staring at him over his shoulder, looking hunted. It spurred Noya on, and he took another step forward, his words sounding nearly frantic in his desperation to get them out.

“You’re so much better than you were this morning! I know you know it – and I don’t mind if you break my nose whenever you’re angry with me as long as you don’t shut me out like that, as long as you try. If that’s what fuels you, then—”

“What – god, Nishinoya, that’s – don’t say that,” Asahi blurted out, turning around completely. His face was deathly pale but his brows were stubbornly furrowed. “That’s sick. I’d – I don’t enjoy hurting you. I don’t enjoy hurting anyone! Physically or—or… verbally. Or…” He trailed off, his large hands twisting in his shirt. Noya felt his blood go cold, but he pressed on.

“Fine,” he said, dismissing his martyr streak for the time being. “Then let that drive you! Let something drive you – anything, please, Asahi, anything at all. I—oh. God.” He let out a shuddering breath, his sleep – and blood- deprived brain reeling. Noya blinked slowly, feeling as though he were standing on the court again. Focused on the single thing that mattered.

That was it. 

“I miss you. Asahi, I. Dammit.” 

He hung his head, cursing again when all the blood rushed to soak up the cotton. He stared at the tile, wondering if he really would choose bleeding out via his nose to lifting his head and meeting Asahi’s gaze again.

“I miss you, Asahi,” he said quietly. “You’re back but you’re still not here. I don’t recognize you, you’re not – you’re not the ace anymore. And yesterday—” He shook his head. No. One thing at a time. Public relations first. Private violations second.

He felt Asahi take a few cautious steps forward. A hand appeared in his line of vision, tissue neatly stacked in the palm.

“You’re going to bleed again.”

Noya lifted his head, his eyes going crossed as he focused on Asahi’s face. The other boy looked uncomfortable. Sorry. 

Absolutely fucking wretched.

Noya accepted the tissues, pressing them half-heartedly against his nose. So that was Asahi’s answer, then. Reserved kindness. It was better than nothing. 

Noya gave his upperclassman a little grin and gestured towards the door.

“We should get back. Dai will yell at us.”

Asahi nodded, the motion absent. He turned to open the door and then stopped again.

“I’m so sorry, Nishinoya.”

His voice was quiet enough that Noya thought for a second he might have imagined it.

Asahi leaned forward, resting his hand flat against the door. 

“Lately I’ve – I don’t really recognize myself either,” he said quietly, his index finger lightly scratching a chip in the paint. “I thought for so long that if I just did what you said – w-what Daichi and Suga say and the rest of the team, if I could just pretend, then I’d become that person. That I’d wake up and. And everything I don’t like, all this stuff in my head that’s so jumbled would just fall into place. That I’d grow up, I guess. And know everything about myself. Like myself, maybe. See what… what you used to.”

He straightened up and glanced at Noya again. Weary.

“I keep failing,” he said quietly. “I keep waking up the same. Worse, even. Some days. Like yesterday – everything felt too much, you wouldn’t back down and everything you were saying I’ve said to myself a thousand times. You make it sound realer and more terrifying and – and then I…”

Asahi fell silent again, looking everywhere but at Noya.

Noya waited for a moment to make sure Asahi was done talking before he let himself speak. No thinking.

“I still like you, Asahi.”

He winced and quickly added, “A-As a teammate. I still admire you. You’re not naturally gifted – don’t look at me like that you know what I mean! You’re not Kageyama, this isn’t easy for you. You had to work hard and even though your personality is the absolute worst for being the ace that’s what you were. A-Are. What you… you are.”

He let out a little breath, starting to get a bit too worked up. 

“The other stuff… we can sort it out later. Because I think that’s all you absolutely need to hear right now.” 

Asahi was staring at him as though he were a foreign thing. Speaking French. Malay. Words he could never possibly hope to master or put together in that same pattern ever again. Noya gave Asahi an encouraging prod in the arm, too tired to manage much more. Fuck he was drained. Blood and emotions. Asahi started back like a shying horse and quickly nodded, opening the door. He ducked out into the hallway, his head slightly bowed. Noya had to lightly jog to keep up, but he didn’t mind. Asahi’s huge form made the other students gathering in the halls jump out of the way, and all Noya had to do was silently follow in his wake. Like one of those little fish that attached themselves to whale sharks. 

Asahi remained silent until they reached the gym doors. His steps slowed, and he faltered, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he turned to look at Noya one last time. Noya stared back up at Asahi, not liking the silence building between them. It was too much like the day before. Right after the pressing and the bodily contact and the ragged little breaths.

“Asahi?”

Asahi hesitated, and then his lips pulled up in a cautious smile.

“…You don’t hate me?”

Noya blinked and then snorted, howling in pain when the cotton rammed up his nose. Asahi let out an anxious noise and moved forward to help him, pressing more tissues against the blood-soaked cotton.

“Nishinoya – I told you to be careful!”

“I can’t be careful when you’re being ridiculous – I have to nip your thoughts in the bud before they grow and take over your whole brain!”

He gave in and punched Asahi in the shoulder, just to say he had. Asahi rubbed at the spot, still pressing the tissues against Noya’s nose.

“Ow,” Asahi said weakly. “Nishinoya—”

Noya glared up at Asahi over the layers of tissue. “I hate repeating myself,” he mumbled. “Especially when I deem the answer to be obvious. Please don’t make me do it again.”

Asahi bit his lip and then nodded. Once.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, letting out another ‘ow’ when Noya punched him again.

The doors to the gym slid open, and Ennoshita stuck his head out, droning, “We’re in the middle of teardown. We all voted not to let either of you near the mops so you’re stuck wiping the floor with rags. Especially where Noya bled all over the place.”

A moment later Suga appeared at the door as well, looking a bit frazzled.

“Everything okay out here?” he said with affected cheer, shooing Ennoshita back inside.

Noya frowned, glancing up questioningly at Asahi. Asahi gave him an unsure look, and Noya sighed, long-suffering.

“We’re fine, Suga,” he called out, taking the tissues from Asahi so he could head inside the gym. He glanced over his shoulder at Asahi, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re fine, aren’t we, Asahi?”

A look of utter relief washed over Asahi’s face. He nodded, stepping inside the gym as well, a very small smile on his face.

“Fine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry to worry you, Suga.”

“I’m used to it by now,” Suga said wearily, ushering them towards the supply closet. “Class starts in ten minutes you know, and I don’t want to be put on the clubs’ black list again.”

Noya tossed out an apology over his shoulder as he jogged towards the closet, dodging Ryū’s questions and swipes as he gathered the old towels they used to wipe down problematic spots on the floor. He made his way back over to the court, kneeling down where he’d fallen and starting to scrub. A moment later Asahi joined him, working in silence. Their shoulders bumped, and Asahi offered him an apologetic smile before moving just a bit farther away.

After a few more scrubs, Noya sat back on his heels, finished. He let himself watch Asahi work for just a few seconds, the repetitive motions soothing some howling instinct in his brain, before he stood up and moved back to the closet. He tossed the towels into the hamper and went to get his bags. Ryū was there waiting for him, but let him change into his uniform in peace, not even commenting when Noya tugged the cotton out of his nose. It had stopped bleeding. Thank god. 

They left the gym in silence, save for the obligatory ‘thank you!’ as they passed their upperclassmen. Daichi gave them an absent wave, quietly speaking to Asahi and Suga as they helped him finish up. It wasn’t until they were almost to Noya’s classroom that Ryū finally spoke.

“And just what the hell was that?”

“Complicated.”

Noya stopped in front of his classroom, staring wearily up at Ryū.

“Really fucking complicated.”

Ryū raised an eyebrow.

“Did you punch him?”

Noya nodded, opening the door to his classroom. Everyone else was already seated, talking quietly amongst themselves.

“Yeah. Twice.”

Ryū whistled lowly.

“Shit. What’d he do?”

Noya ran his fingers through his hair. Fuck he was tired.

He glanced once last time at his friend and then shrugged his thin shoulders.

“He kissed me.”

He walked into the classroom just as his homeroom teacher did. He sat down in his seat and pulled out his books, wincing when from the other side of the door came a very loud, “What the shit?!”

“MR. TANAKA!”

Noya folded his hands atop his desk, focusing on the chalkboard as he listened to his homeroom teacher yell at him to get to class. The bell rang and he rose to his feet with the rest of his class, bowing, sitting back down. The lesson began, and Noya found himself tilting his head back to stare up at the third floor. His classmates were all talking quietly about the blood crusted around his nose. Black eyes too, probably.

He stared at the underside of the third floor, absently wondering, not for the first time, if maybe his priorities were just a little fucked up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know there’s a picture of Tanaka’s house in the manga. I’m choosing to ignore that detail. Just call it an AU and be done with it. I like my world building too much to give it up (self-indulgent writer syndrome activate).

Noya pushed aside the ball cart that kept nudging his side for what felt like the billionth time. If it weren’t absolutely essential that he stay quiet to avoid Ennoshita and Kinoshita who were practicing through lunch he would have kicked the cart across the supply closet and prayed for it to explosively shatter against the wall.

As it was, he was crouched behind it, fighting off its slow drift backwards every few seconds, and hoping that this was indeed the last place Ryū would look for him. His lunch lay abandoned off to the side. He was too wound up to eat.

He’d known that the second the bell rang for lunch, Ryū would make a beeline for his classroom and harass him until he spilled the whole story. And since he wasn’t ready to do that just yet, the logical thing to do was to plant numerous, intricate decoys around the school to throw Ryū off his trail and go hide in his least favorite place. Kageyama and Hinata were hopefully talking his ear off about the new Dungeon Master game (Ryū’s latest obsession) as instructed, which meant that Ryū would be too preoccupied showing off his team to the impressionable underclassmen to devote brain cells towards finding him. 

Noya closed his eyes, feeling his whole face twitch as the ball cart bumped into him again.

This was the worst.

This was the actual worst. Infinitely more terrible than just suffering alone because now he had to suffer alone and avoid people. More than one people. He tended to draw too much attention to himself which made things like hide and seek difficult despite his otherwise perfect hide-and-seeker build.

Footsteps approached the closet and Noya quickly hit the floor, holding his breath. The door cracked open and Ennoshita tossed a ball at the cart, still chatting idly to Kinoshita about their plans for Sunday. The door shut behind them and Noya slowly picked himself up. He felt a little twinge of pride that his fellow second years were practicing through lunch, but it was quickly smothered by something his mother called ‘self-pity’ and his father called ‘necessary reality checks.’

Noya scrubbed at his face and half-heartedly picked up his lunch again to nibble at. Suga would yell at him if he didn’t at least make a concerted effort. Sometimes he talked through lunch and had to cram food down his throat at the last possible second. People took bets, he heard. If he’d survive lunch or not. Odds against went up on the days his lunch contained anything with a toothpick in it.

The chiming of the warning bell echoed through the school yard, and Noya pushed himself up off the ground. He shoved the last of his rice ball into his mouth, licking off the grains that were stuck to his fingers as he headed outside. The urge to linger was incredibly strong, but if he missed English again he was fairly sure Miss Katayama was going to hunt him down. Literally. She’d spent her high school years in Australia. She’d probably learned things.

Noya barely made it back to class in time. There was a note on his desk that he ignored for the time being, too focused on switching his brain back to learning mode. When Miss Katayama began to speak, however, he carefully pulled the piece of paper off his desk and opened it up in his lap.

/you can run but you can’t hide/

That was scribbled out. Messily.

/you can hide but you can’t hide forever. totally what i meant to write the first time. but noya you’re such an asshole how can you tell me that AND THEN AVOID ME FOR ALL OF LUNCH GOD DAMMIT I’M SO MAD. DID THAT SERIOUSLY HAPPEN?! IF THIS IS A JOKE IT’S REALLY NOT FUCKING FUNNY AND AFTER PRACTICE WE’RE HAVING WORDS OKAY. A LOT OF THEM. GIRD YOUR FUCKING LOINS, NISHINOYA. GIRD. THEM. DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT GIRDING IS BUT FUCKING DO IT. also i didn’t want my dessert so i stuck it in your bag love you <3 Ryū/

Noya quickly folded the note and shoved it in his pocket before he lost it. He took a quick peek in his bag when Katayama’s back was turned and fished out a bar of chocolate. That had clearly just been purchased. His favorite kind.

Noya ran his thumb along the crease in the chocolate wrapper. Girding. 

Fine, he could gird. He could do this.

He shoved the chocolate back into his bag and resumed note taking. 

And he hadn’t been hiding, either. Strategic, all of it.

After class, he took his time heading to the gym. Not cutting it too close, but he wanted to head straight into business mode. Thankfully, by the time he got there, everyone was almost done warning up. Daichi even scolded him about proper stretching. It was nice to fall back into routine. Everyone asked about his nose, he joked and over-reacted to teasing like he always would, and somehow that made things easier.

And the team felt lighter too, somehow. The air rarified. When Narita made an exceptionally great kill during warm-up and everyone exploded into enthusiastic praise, Noya forgot completely about the worm slowly eating through his brain. The one that had been bothering him since lunch.

A feeling that he’d been altered. Something beyond two blackened eyes.

And the worry that maybe Ryū would know what that something was.

Serve practice gave him some unwanted time alone on one side of the net. It didn’t help that Ryū kept glancing his way every few seconds. Not judgmental or worried glances. Just insanely curious ones. The morbid kind. Like he was craning his neck to see around the police barrier at an accident.

Noya managed to deflect every one with a little glare and a mouthed, ‘Later,’ until Ryū got the hint and put his full mental faculties into serving. With the surveillance gone, Noya felt his body ease back into the familiar rhythm of serve receives. He was finally starting to get the hang of his team’s habits again. Hinata’s serve was simple. Direct to him. Suga’s textbook. Tsukishima’s oddly weak. Kageyama’s a crazy challenge that actually made Noya let out a burst of excited laughter as he rolled to catch it.

He popped up just in time for the last hit. He watched through the net as Asahi’s brown eyes tracked the ball floating up in the air. His nose scrunched up as he concentrated. Shoulders twisted, fingers clenching at the last minute. His full power in the swing. When his hand connected, the heavy sound reverberated through the gym, sending chills up Noya’s spine. He felt everyone watching, watching him as the ball came hurling over the net, waiting for their libero to finish his job now that they’d finished theirs.

Quick quick plant pivot. Hands clasped. Thumbs against palms.

The ball arched off his reddened forearms, sailing in a clean arc right into the basket. It made a satisfying ‘thunk’ as it hit the crossed bars at the bottom. 

Done.

Noya stood up straight, fighting back a grin as Ennoshita whistled lowly and Hinata burst into excited strings of words. He ran his fingers through his hair to give himself something to do so the praise wouldn’t get to him, lifting his gaze slightly as he did so.

Through the net, his eyes caught Asahi’s. Just for a moment. The third year looked away almost immediately, reflexively. Noya waited, Asahi’s habits engrained into his instincts. Asahi was bad at maintaining eye contact. Insanely so. It took a moment for him to get over the shock of another human being directly recognizing him.

And sure enough a few seconds later Asahi’s eyes drifted back over to him. Meeting his once more, the gaze cautious but steady. Noya nodded his head in acknowledgement. Asahi’s lips curled up into a shy smile before he nodded back and looked away again, distracted by Suga.

Noya stared through the holes in the net, something in his core aching as he watched Asahi laugh and rub his neck. It was the strangest feeling. Of being a puppet attached to another. As though every step Asahi took would make his own legs move. His hands. His arms. And he knew that if he reached up and touched his face, he’d feel a shy smile reflected on his own lips. One he hadn’t meant to put there himself. One that Asahi had made for him.

He didn’t fight the strings threaded through the corners of his mouth. Because even after all the fighting and the interpersonal disasters, Asahi’s praise and acknowledgement were still the things he craved most. And the quiet part of himself that woke him up too early in the morning hoped that Asahi craved his just as much. 

And that he wasn’t the only one with his stomach twisted in knots over analyzing a simple, timid smile.

Ukai called them over, and the puppet strings frayed. Enough that Noya was able to move on his own again. He ducked under the net and joined the rest of the team, listening intently to the instructions for the next drills. 

The rest of practice flew by in a frenzied blur of ceiling lights and hardwood floor and twisted knees and jarred elbows. When practice was over Noya had a new bruise collection to show for it. He stared mournfully at a particularly damning one on his arm, wondering how he was going to justify it to his parents.

A heavy weight rested on his shoulder. He tilted his head back to see Ryū smiling down at him, a frenzied look in his eye.

Oh shit.

“Mr. Nishinoya.”

Ryū’s grip tightened.

“You’ll have to forgive the rough treatment. I’m simply worried you may unintentionally wander off again like you did at lunch. What a silly, silly accident that was.”

“R-Right… silly,” Noya said weakly, his stomach rolling for a completely different reason. Slightly less terrifying because he knew the direct cause. Slightly more terrifying because of the way Ryū was glaring daggers at him.

Ryū’s eyes closed as his smile widened, and he finally lowered his hand.

“Very good.”

Ryū waved at Daichi and Suga.

“Daichi! Noya and I are taking off! Everything’s put away, club room key’s with the water bottles by the door!”

“Sure thing! Good work today, you two!” Daichi gave them an approving nod and Suga smiled reassuringly. Noya bowed slightly and then followed Ryū over to their bags.

“They slide more and more into paternal roles with every passing day,” Ryū said absently as he gathered his things. “Not that I care. We’re together so much; I spend a hell of a lot more time with you guys than I do my own family. Nice to have parental guidance.”

“I think Daichi would burst a blood vessel if you tried to make him a parent at age seventeen,” Noya said with a snort. “Suga would probably just accept it, though. And then get Daichi to. You know how they work.”

Ryū laughed, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, I do. God I love those guys. We should seriously consider going with our ‘Silence of the Lambs’-esq pit trap in the middle of the gym so they can’t ever leave.”

“…Oh right. I forgot about that,” Noya said slowly, grinning despite the growing mountain of nervousness in his intestines. “It’s an insanely good thing we don’t have access to large scale construction equipment.”

“Insanely good—it’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Ryū complained, waving at Kinoshita as they headed out of the gym. The moment they crossed the threshold, however, his expression fell. He glanced down at Noya. “…Which seems to be the theme of the day.”

Noya tightened his grip on his bag, his lips pressed in a thin line. 

“Don’t be dramatic. Nothing’s different that matters.”

“Shit. It’s gonna rain sideways next time, now that I’ve heard you tell someone else to tone down the drama.” Ryū clicked his tongue and scratched his head. “And I’ll believe nothing’s changed when you can say it without sounding like you’re gonna burst into tears at any moment.” 

“I’m not gonna burst into tears!” Noya protested. “It’s – I have a lot on my plate, okay? There’s… something about stress! Or. Or whatever. Young minds collapsing under the pressure of high school!”

“Noya, you study a grand total of three hours a week. I have little to no faith that that’s at all the reason,” Ryū deadpanned. He suddenly jumped and then fished around in his bag for his phone, which was vibrating like crazy. His eyes darted across the screen and then he glanced at Noya. 

“So we got a bunch of extra tuna at the restaurant. I hope you’re chill with that for dinner.”

“…Wait, what?”

“Wow, way to read the flow of conversation, Noya—”

“That was less a flow and more a gross derailing, but go on.”

“—you’re obviously coming over to my house after this and obviously having dinner there too, geez. So bad at conversation. Go back to kindergarten and relearn how to interact with others.”

Noya slowed his steps, surprise making it difficult to keep moving forward. Because the other worm, the one he’d had to quell by holding onto the stupid chocolate bar in his bag, by reading the note a thousand times, had been telling him the opposite. That Ryū wanted to talk to him to yell. Or be disgusted or bash Asahi and encourage him to do the same because that’s what guys did when they heard a boy they knew had kissed another boy. They didn’t invite the guy over to their house. They didn’t give him chocolate or still use unusually-kind-for-guys-their-age words or treat them the same.

Noya pressed a hand over his eyes, relief making him light headed. He heard Ryū’s footsteps come to a halt.

“…Noya? O-Oi! Noya, what—”

“Tuna’s fine,” Noya bit out, his voice thick to hold back everything else that wanted to spill out. “You know I like whatever your dad and mom make, you don’t – you don’t need to check every time.”

Ryū fell quiet, the only sound his shoes crunching in the gravel as he shifted his weight. Noya felt a warm hand rest atop his head, ruffling his hair like he did to the first years. Whenever things got to be a little too tough at practice. When they were close to breaking down.

Noya let out a slow breath and then lowered his hand. He flashed Ryū a little grin and ducked underneath his hand to keep walking.

“C’mon. Next train to your place is in ten, right? We might have to run.”

Ryū’s eyes lit up but he sighed heavily before jogging to catch up with Noya. He lightly hit his shoulder, muttering, “Don’t scare me like that. I thought you had a delayed concussion from this morning or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how concussions work,” Noya said absently, focused on texting his dad to let him know he was going to Ryū’s.

“Oh, sorry, Doctor Nishinoya. I keep forgetting about your primary profession since you gave up wearing a stethoscope as an accessory.”

“That was one time and I found it on the street – how often do you find shit like that on the street, it was the best day of my life and how dare you tarnish it with your sarcasm!”

Ryū burst out laughing, pressing his hand against his forehead.

“Ah – ah holy shit I forgot how enraged you get when I bring that up. Sorry!”

“I wouldn’t have a need to get enraged if you hadn’t lost it,” Noya grumbled, lightly kicking a stone as they headed down the street.

They continued the argument the whole way to the station, and the whole twenty minute ride to Ryū’s place. By the time the train pulled into Ryū’s stop, the rock lodged in Noya’s stomach had been whittled down to mere boulder size. Manageable. Less intestine-crushy.

Noya tapped his pass against the barrier, his face lighting up a bit as he caught sight of the park across the way.

“It feels like forever since I stopped by your guy’s place,” he said, wincing when he remembered why, exactly, that was. Oh right. Self-imposed month of isolation. He cleared his throat and picked up his pace a bit, following Ryū. “So how’s the restaurant doing?”

“Hm? Ah – good, actually. Surprisingly,” Ryū said, scratching his head again. “Dad won some sort of newspaper award for best local something and let it go to his head, though. So now he’s changed all of the menu items to include characters from his name. It’s embarrassin’ as hell, especially when he makes me help out. The customers don’t have any idea what they’re ordering and get fuckin’ pissed when what they thought was tuna is actually sea urchin and so on and so on…”

“Sounds like something he’d do,” Noya laughed, tugging on Ryū’s sleeve to point out a cat that was perched atop a wall. “But I mean, he knows what he’s doing. The guy can cut a fish. And how’s your mom?”

“Tyrannical as usual,” Ryū muttered, his face falling immediately. “She threw a book at my head the other day. Said if I brought home test scores like last time I was going to sleep in the fridge next to the salted fish guts jar. She knows I’m scared of them, it’s fuckin’ inhumane.”

“Your mom is awesome,” Noya said seriously, “You’re lucky. American Marines don’t get the same kind of intimidation and torture training you grew up with. Think about how rock-solid it’s made you.”

“You’re more than welcome to take my place, y’know,” Ryū muttered, rubbing his arm. “Although she actually likes you, so.”

“Oh don’t give me that shit, your mom likes you!” Noya laughed as they turned the corner. Ryū’s house was technically the second floor of his family’s restaurant, situated along a busy street not far from the station. It was a large, traditional building. Blue sloping tile roofs. Small garden in the back with a VIP table that was almost never used. Ryū sometimes did his homework there. He said it helped him concentrate, being able to look at the fish in the pond and listen to the background sounds of the restaurant. Tons of foot traffic made the place busy almost all the time. Ever since Noya had met Ryū a little more than a year ago he’d never seen the place empty.

Ryū slid open the door to the restaurant. “Gotta check in with Dad first, then we’ll head upstairs,” he said, hopping up past the entry way. Noya pushed aside the half-curtain that separated the entry from the restaurant proper, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dimmer lighting. The walls were paneled with dark wood, menu items carved onto slats hanging up closer to the rafters. It looked like the setting for an old samurai movie – something that Noya had said the first time he’d visited which had made Ryū roll his eyes and punch him in the arm. It wasn’t that cool, he’d muttered, Noya didn’t have to act.

Noya kept most of his traditional-nerd musings to himself from then on. Ryū acted weird about the restaurant. Noya didn’t want to pry, so he didn’t. 

There were only about fifteen tables in the place, but there was a long counter with ten or so more seats, behind which Ryū’s parents and their sous chefs worked. There were a few customers, but it was empty enough that Noya didn’t get the twinge of guilt he sometimes felt interrupting everyone’s work.

Mr. Tanaka was behind the counter, hunched over something and mumbling to himself. He looked up when he heard the door open, his graying hair falling into his eyes over the bandana around his forehead. He clicked his tongue when he spotted Ryū and muttered, “Oh. It’s you.” His eyes lit up when he spotted Noya, however, who gave a little wave.

“Hi, Mr. Tanaka.”

“Yuyu! It’s been forever – come back here, tell me if you like this cut! And what happened to your face, kid, you look like hell!”

“What – Dad, don’t call him that!” Ryū snapped, looking mortified. “You know he hates it! And what’s with the ‘oh it’s you’ line again?”

“Last time you were in here you berated me in front of my customers!” Mr. Tanaka said, pounding his fist on the counter. “Do y’know how much that drives me fuckin’ nuts?!”

“Dad – language! In front of customers!” Ryū hissed, his eyes darting around. He groaned and dumped his bag next to the counter before tugging on an apron. Noya stood off to the side, waiting for the little family drama to dissolve as it always did. Ryū cast him an apologetic glance.

“Just a few minutes to make sure everything’s settled.”

“Go ahead, take your time,” Noya said, trying to keep from sounding too amused. Ryū picked up on some of it, though, and shot him a little glare before rushing over to the patrons seated by the windows.

“Yuyu, here – what do you think?”

Noya ducked behind the counter and peered at the plate Mr. Tanaka was working on. Two pieces of sushi had been decorated with strips of seaweed and ginger to look like—

Noya jerked backwards to stand up straight, his cheeks dusted pink.

“…Boobs.”

Mr. Tanaka burst into laughter, slapping his thigh.

“Hilarious, right?! I’m tryin’ t’ think of somethin’ t’ drag the younger crowd in here…”

“Well that will attract some type of clientele, I can guarantee it,” Noya said weakly, still feeling a bit hot under the collar. Over ginger-illustrated breasts. What was wrong with him.

“Is that Yū I hear?”

Mrs. Tanaka’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. A moment later she poked her head out, a huge smile on her face. She was a surprisingly tall woman, with chestnut-colored hair (that she dyed, Ryū had whispered to him just out of earshot) pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She had glasses with brightly-colored plastic frames dangling around her neck by a lanyard, and was wearing the same apron as her husband and son. Noya couldn’t recall seeing her without it.

Noya gave Mrs. Tanaka a little wave, moving obediently when Mr. Tanaka placed his hands on his shoulders to steer him to stand in front of the plate of incriminating sushi. 

“Hi, Mrs. Tanaka. Sorry to impose.”

“It’s no imposition – can’t remember the last time you were here,” Mrs. Tanaka said cheerfully, stepping out to give Noya’s shoulder a little pat. “And oh dear, what happened to your face?”

“Ball,” Noya said simply.

“Ah. I should have guessed.”

She frowned suddenly and peered over his head. Noya heard Mr. Tanaka hiss and mumble to himself, “Shoulda used one of Ryūnosuke’s taller friends.”

“…Konosuke.”

“…Y-Yeah?”

Mrs. Tanaka sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose.

“Do you even know what breasts look like? Honestly, it’s like you’ve never seen them before. What the hell is that ginger supposed to be?! And where’s the one for the ladies, huh? You really want male-only clientele in here? They’ll trash up the place!”

Mr. Tanaka opened his mouth to reply, but Mrs. Tanaka held up a hand.

“Don’t! I don’t even want to know what sort of porn you’re watching that you think that’s what they look like.” She glanced down at Noya, giving him a small, tired smile. “I’m sorry, Yū. You shouldn’t have to deal with this so early in the evening.” She shot her husband a glare. “Or ever.”

“It’s fine, really,” Noya said quickly, holding up his hands. “Really it is, ma’am, any way I can help, I want to.”

“Oh this isn’t help,” Mrs. Tanaka said dryly, whacking her husband on the back of the head. He whimpered quietly but otherwise said nothing. “Go get my son to stop freaking out about the customers and do his homework. That’ll be your payment for dinner.”

Noya gave a sharp nod and ducked back under the counter, grabbing his and Ryū’s bags. Ryū was talking with a few of the customers, a harried look on his face as he attempted to explain what several of the menu items were.

“…and the Tora Roll is exactly like the one before it, just without the tobiko. I think,” he said as cheerfully as possible. “If you want to wait a moment, I can check with the chef.”

“Oh, no, Ryū dear, you don’t have to,” the patron said, laughing quietly. She patted his arm and then gestured to Noya. “Your little friend’s waiting for you. Are you tutoring someone from the middle school down the road?”

Noya fought back a snort of laughter. Tutoring. In what, exactly, he wanted to ask.

Ryū looked about a second away from losing it, but managed to choke out, “Y-Yes, I’m helping him with Algebra. Poor guy still can’t get it. But he’s a little trooper!”

“Ryū I swear to God.”

Ryū stood up straight and ruffled Noya’s hair.

“Come on then, kiddo. Let’s get down to work! And watch your language; you’re too young to be swearing!”

Noya rolled his eyes as they headed towards the back of the restaurant. He managed to kick Ryū’s leg to make it crumple underneath him, and the other second-year went down like a ton of bricks. Noya forged ahead without him, waving to the sous chefs in the kitchen who were preparing for the Friday night rush. They waved back, one of them tossing him an orange. Noya grabbed it and trundled up the stairs, Ryū on his heels.

The upper levels of the Tanaka house were laid out like an apartment. There was a small kitchen for family meals, a small living room, bedrooms on the third floor. The tatami had recently been replaced so everything smelled like fresh-cut hay. The tiny third floor had a couple verandas for laundry. In the summer it was absolutely sweltering, but Ryū’s parents had finally broken down and gotten Ryū an air conditioner and heater for his room.

Noya stumbled onto the third floor landing, frowning when his thigh muscle twitched. Must have overexerted himself again. 

“Ah man… this is hellish after practice,” Ryū said with a moan, reaching around Noya to push his door open. He shuffled inside and collapsed on the bed in the corner. Noya set their bags down and moved to open the veranda door, letting in a breeze. He peered out over the city towards the mountains.

“It’s so nice being on an upper floor…”

“You could’ve kept your room, y’know. Didn’t have to give it to your brother,” Ryū pointed out, his voice muffled by his pillow.

“Yeah I did. It made him happy,” Noya said absently, propping his elbows on the railing. “And now he and Suzu fight less, so it worked out.”

“Martyr.”

“Good brother.”

“That’s what I said.”

Noya laughed and headed back inside the room, plunking down in front of Ryū’s television.

“So are we actually gonna do homework or are we gonna pretend like usual?”

“It’s Friday, classes are off tomorrow, all we have is practice. I’m not doin’ anythin’ that requires mental effort,” Ryū said, sliding off his bed to land on the floor next to Noya. He turned on the TV with his big toe and tossed Noya a controller.

“Space game?”

“Space game,” Noya confirmed, leaning back against Ryū’s bed.

They played in relative silence for a few minutes, but Noya could feel Ryū’s attention shifting to him. The clock was ticking. How much longer could he stall.

He peeled the orange during a cut scene, offering Ryū a piece. Ryū accepted it readily enough, but just before he took a bite, he paused.

“Y’know I’m gonna ask in just a second here, right.”

Noya pressed his lips together in a thin, stubborn line. He thought they’d settled things with the note and the chocolate and the invite to Ryū’s house. He didn’t see much point in bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah I do.”

“Ryūnosuke! Leave your door open!”

Mrs. Tanaka’s voice echoed through the house. Ryū let out a heavy sigh and yelled back, “We’re not doin’ stuff like that, Mom! We’re pure hearted!”

“As pure hearted as the stack of magazines under your bed?! Leave it open anyway! I don’t trust you! Yū, dear, that wasn’t directed at you!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tanaka!”

“What the – what the hell, man!” Ryū whined, lightly punching Noya in the arm. “Why d’you always take her side?”

Noya blinked.

“I’m not taking a side. I’m just being nice to your parents,” he said, turning back to the game now that the cut scene was over. Ryū let out a heavy sigh and muttered, “Yeah, you always were creepily polite to people older than you. They’ve told you that you can drop the formal language like a dozen times.”

“But I like it,” Noya protested, fist pumping the air when he got a fantastic kill. “Oi, Ryū, pay attention! We’re moving on!”

“What—oh shit, sorry.”

Ryū picked up his controller and focused for a few more blessed minutes before he glanced over at Noya again.

“…Am I really not allowed to ask? I thought you’d be foamin’ at the mouth tryin’ to get me to bring it up. I know I’d wanna talk about it.”

Noya fell silent, suddenly unsure what he wanted. It would be nice hearing someone’s opinion, getting it off his chest for real, but…

“…You’re not going to make little gaggin’ noises, are you? Like that one time I told you I thought Misato was way cuter than Megumi.”

“Uh, no? Don’t think that’s on the agenda,” Ryū said absently, cursing as he took damage. “Was more thinkin’ you’d be the one makin’ gaggin’ noises since you’re the one it happened to.”

Noya laughed, but the noise was a bit unsteady.

“Surprisingly that wasn’t one of my reactions. Had several but –”

He stopped talking so he could think. Should he have been more grossed out? Wasn’t that more a typical response? But instead he’d been upset because it had been Asahi and fighting and it seemed like such a cheap shot just to get him to shut up.

“…Noya?”

Noya blinked and shook himself out of his little revelry.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m back.”

He focused on the TV screen again, catching Ryū staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?”

“Wh—nothin’, it’s just…” Ryū snorted. “I forget sometimes how intense you can get. All quiet. It’s kinda freaky.”

“Yeah, Mom says she wishes I’d get like that about anythin’ other than sports and video games. I asked her ‘what about comic books’ and she hit me with a spoon.”

Ryū laughed. “Oh man, I wonder if our moms have a little social circle they go to just to figure out how to torture us.”

“Entirely possible.”

Noya fell silent again, content to focus on the game. Ryū seemed to have forgotten his mission. Noya was torn between relief and disappointment. They joked and teased each other like normal, lovingly made fun of the game together like normal. And just as the needle was slipping completely over into relief, Ryū spoke up again.

“So what’ll it take to get you to talk about it?”

Noya nearly dropped his controller. He side-eyed Ryū and his friend met his gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. Ryū sighed and scratched his head.

“I kept waitin’ for you to bring it up naturally, but since you didn’t I gotta go down the awkward path and flat-out ask. What’ll it take?”

“What – are you asking me to bribe you?” Noya grumbled, turning back to the game. “…I dunno.”

“…Fine. I’ll name my own price.” Ryū held up a finger. “Ice cream after practice tomorrow!”

Noya stared at his friend.

“…A single one?”

Ryū frowned and then held up another finger.

Noya let out a sigh and resumed the game. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but Ryū was rocking back and forth slightly which he only did when he was highly interested in something. And Noya was a complete pushover when it came to The Friendship of a Lifetime. So even though he was right and he didn’t see the need to talk about it further, he caved almost immediately. 

Dammit. 

“…What do you wanna know.”

“How it happened, idiot! What else?!” Ryū exploded, pressing pause on the game. Noya growled quietly and unpaused it. He needed something to distract himself while he was being interrogated.

“Durin’ the fight.”

“Yesterday’s?”

Noya nodded.

“So… what, you’re yellin’ and then he just… picks you up?”

“He didn’t pick me up!” Noya immediately corrected. “He just… sort of grabbed me and pressed me against the wall. And it was only for a second! I didn’t even really have time to figure out what was goin’ on before he let go and fled like the coward he is. Not – I mean I don’t know what I’dve done if he’d stayed, so. Might’ve been for the best.”

Ryū let out a low whistle, stretching out his legs in front of him.

“Holy shit,” he said solemnly.

“Holy shit,” Noya agreed. He cursed softly as he almost died, barely managing to use a medi pack in time.

“So it wasn’t like… romantic?” Ryū asked, hedging his question.

Noya frowned. 

“How d’you mean?”

“Like… I dunno.” Ryū gestured vaguely with his controller. “He didn’t look into your eyes or like… touch your cheek?”

Noya gave Ryū a bizarre look.

“I told you, we were in the middle of that fight you guys heard. Where the hell did you hear about cheek touching?”

Ryū mumbled something under his breath, his cheeks turning red. Noya raised an eyebrow.

“What was that?”

“I said my sister… she used to make me watch those romantic dramas with her,” Ryū muttered. “And they were always doin’ stuff like that. Even if they were fightin’ two seconds ago one of them would start cryin’ and the other would touch their cheek and get all… tender and stuff. I dunno.” 

“Oh. My dad likes those.” Noya shook his head, pulling his knees up against his chest. His thoughts started to drift back to the kiss and he tugged on a lock of hair. Stop.

“Definitely not romantic,” he muttered. “More. Desperate, I guess. He was probably just runnin’ out of ways to shut me up.”

“…Dude.”

Noya tensed at the judgmental tone.

“What?”

Ryū punched his shoulder again. “That is the lamest fuckin’ excuse I’ve ever heard!”

“Ryū – you’ve said you’d kiss me to shut me up!”

“Yeah I also said I’d kiss you if we had a gun pointed to our heads or if we were the last two people on earth or if you were dyin’ in the street and it was your final wish but none of those things have happened, have they?! And Asahi’s not me; you can’t use a Ryū argument to justify an Asahi action!”

“Then I don’t know why else he did it!” Noya snapped back, the controller creaking as he tightened his grip on it. “If it wasn’t to shut me up and it wasn’t a practical joke or to humiliate me – he didn’t even tell anyone and today he was actin’ so weird – I don’t get it! And ah fuck this is why I didn’t want to talk about it! It’s just making me feel stupid!”

Ryū fell awkwardly silent for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“…You’re not that dumb, Noya,” he mumbled. “There’s… I mean, there’re a couple other reasons why he might’ve done that.”

Something in Noya’s gut twisted sharply. He watched his character’s head explode on screen, sympathizing with them a bit too much. 

“Asahi’s not like that.”

“You got an insider’s guide to his head or somethin’? Lonely Planet volume coverin’ the inner-workin’s of our team’s second-most reticent?” Ryū raised an eyebrow. “‘Cause I’m fairly sure exactly one-hundred percent of your conversations with him have been about club stuff. Not about. Y’know. Personal shit.”

Noya fell silent, staring up a new game. He heard Ryū sigh.

“What, so you get all worked up thinkin’ I might be judgin’ you but then you turn around and do the same to him?”

“That isn’t why,” Noya said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “But I thought you could tell when a guy was. Y’know. Like that. Like all the TV personalities and stuff. They’re all loud and obnoxious and kinda girly, but I mean Asahi’s… he’s the opposite.”

“Well they, uh… they told us in health class that it’s just… y’know, a preference thing. Not… uh… whatever. Like dressin’ in… dresses and stuff,” Ryū said awkwardly, tapping his finger against the trigger button. “And just ‘cause he did that doesn’t mean he is anythin’ at all, y’know? Or he could be the kind that likes both. Or he’s just a weirdo who’s fixated on you.”

“He isn’t a weirdo,” Noya said immediately, scowling. 

Ryū let out a bark of laughter, his normal grin returning to his face.

“Glad to see the trauma hasn’t smothered the torch you hold for him.”

“It wasn’t traumatic. It was just confusin’ and unexpected. Sudden,” Noya said stubbornly. “…Maybe it was a little traumatic but that was more the fight. I hate fightin’.”

“I know you do, babe.”

“And I hate fightin’ with Asahi even more.”

“Yeah, know that too.”

“And Asahi doesn’t fixate on me. He’s the ace, he’s gotta be aware of everyone’s abilities.”

Ryū remained conspicuously silent. 

Noya played for a moment longer before shoving his shoulder against Ryū’s.

“And Asahi doesn’t fixate on me,” he repeated for emphasis.

“Dude, I’m not touchin’ that one.”

Noya made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Why the hell not?”

“’Cause my mom taught me not to lie. Figure I should keep at least one of her rules.”

“Oh come on!”

“…Noya. Oh tiny, tiny child, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

Noya sulked, propping his chin on his knees.

“Noticed what?”

Ryū gave a patronizing sigh and patted Noya’s hair. “Like today in afternoon practice. When Asahi served and you received it. And you two did that dopey little nod across the court, like you’d just saved the planet together in an after-school special.” Ryū laughed. “I mean, even if you guys aren’t gay as hell, you’re pretty into each other. Almost makes me jealous. I wanna save the world with my buddy cop partner and shit.”

“Just because Asahi’s important to me doesn’t mean… I’m not. I don’t… like guys like that,” Noya mumbled, trailing off at the end. “My type’s more like Kiyoko. Or Satsuki in 2-C. And I’ve told you that like a thousand times – you even made me talk to her which was a disaster, thanks again for that. And lots of guys are important to me. The whole team is. You are.”

But it was different.

Noya shoved away the sudden thought and locked it in the pitrap in his head. It wasn’t fucking different. He was just trying to get everyone to see Asahi’s true nature behind the dorky façade. How confident and strong he was, how supportive of his underclassmen. Like how he’d talked to Hinata after the practice match and would randomly compliment Tsukishima on his blocking or Yamaguchi on his serves. He was just that kind and it sucked that no one outside of their team saw it.

Next to him Ryū gave a contemplative little hum.

“…Like I said, there’s that one where you like both,” Ryū said slowly. “Think that was in our health book too. Bi or whatever.”

“How do you remember all this shit? Do you peddle health textbooks for petty cash?” Noya grumbled, not liking where the conversation was going.

Ryū sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, abandoning his character altogether. “Well what do you think of when you think of girls? Like what’s the one adjective that comes to mind.”

“Cute,” Noya answered without hesitation, mashing his finger against the X button.

“Good. A fine choice, Master Nishinoya. And how about guys?”

Noya grunted as his ship took extra damage.

“Cool.”

“Cute and co—simple, but at least we’re getting somewhere,” Ryū muttered.

“We are?” Noya made a little ‘ugh’ noise and scrubbed at his face, setting the controller aside. Cut scene. “But that’s not right either, really. ‘Cause some girls are cool and some guys are cute. Can I change my answer?”

He could feel Ryū staring at him and he lifted his head cautiously. “…What.”

“Nothin’!” Ryū said quickly. “I mean – probably nothin’. But… okay I’m totally on board with girls bein’ cool. I know the type. Love, love the type. But… I dunno. I’d never call a guy cute.”

Noya felt his face go pale. He had to stifle the urge to retreat, to say something along the lines of ‘me neither what a hilarious joke I just made’ because of how uncomfortable Ryū suddenly looked.

“It’s just an adjective,” Noya said defensively. “Not even a creative one.”

“Yeah, but…” Ryū scratched at his head, looking thoughtful. “…You ever thought that about a specific guy?”

Images of second year Suga immediately came to mind. The way he smiled to himself after saying something especially scathing, delivered in his kind, no-nonsense voice.

“…Yeah. I—maybe. At the time I did, I just… didn’t. Think much of it,” Noya mumbled, the contents of his stomach slowly turning to lead. When Ryū continued to stare at him, mystified, Noya bristled to hide his guilt.

“Some guys are cute, okay? Like when Shōyō gets that starry-eyed look or Suga smiles—”

“Or when Asahi grins at you?”

“Or when –“

Noya tensed, his eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sayin’ it.” Ryū gave him a studied look. “…One adjective to describe Asahi. Go.”

“…I don’t wanna play anymore,” Noya said stubbornly, looking away. “No ice cream is worth this.”

“One fuckin’ adjective, Noya. Come on. Don’t think, just say. Like you always do.”

Noya jutted out his bottom lip, steadfastly refusing for as long as possible before he gave in.

“…Ace,” he mumbled.

“Fuck. You loser – that’s not an adjective in the Japanese language, be serious!” Ryū pressed, moving to sit on the floor in front Noya so he could punch him in the kneecap. “One adjective!”

“I don’t know, okay?” Noya bit out, rubbing at his knee. “Stubborn. Anxious. Resilient. Tall broad-shouldered sweaty thoughtful self-deprecating – he’s a lot of things, Ryū, and I don’t really see how this is helping!”

“Pick one! Just one, you simpleton!” Ryū roared, whacking Noya in the shins this time.

“Perfect, okay?!” Noya snapped, feeling harried and trapped. “If I’ve gotta pick one ‘cause you’re bein’ all fascist about this stupid game! He’s the ace, that’s what he’s supposed to be! Or… or what he could be.”

Ryū’s hand stilled. He stared up at Noya for a moment, calculating.

“…Yeah he’s our ace, Noya,” he said, suddenly subdued. “But I think you’re the only one who even comes close to callin’ him that.”

Noya fell silent, staring at the Game Over screen.

Fitting.

“…Still doesn’t mean I’m whatever it is,” he finally said, picking up his controller again.

“…True.” 

Ryū plunked down next to him, picking at an orange slice. “But from my perspective… like, I think some guys are cool and wanna be them but I’ve never like… wanted to be with them, y’know? So… that’s... seein’ if you can make that distinction could help. Maybe.”

Noya stared at Ryū in surprise and then blurted out, “Why would you wanna be someone else? You’re fuckin’ amazing already.”

Ryū’s face turned bright red. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “See, this is why I can’t get totally on board with this hypothetical,” he muttered. “Asahi’s not nice enough to you to be allowed to go around kissin’ you randomly. You deserve better than that.”

“Asahi’s really nice to me,” Noya said, the obstinate tone returning to his voice.

“Oh yeah, real nice the way he spiked the ball into your face today.”

“He took me to the nurse’s room afterwards and patched me up!”

“Patched you—what, like nursed you back to health?”

Shit.

Noya fell quiet for a moment and then said, “Shoved cotton up my nose for me, actually.”

“…Yeah, sounds like a regular Nightingale.”

“There’s no elegant way to fix a bloody nose, Ryū!”

“Guess not.” Ryū tapped his foot against Noya’s. “So… did you like it?”

“Like what?” Noya returned the foot tap.

“Asahi payin’ special attention to you.”

“Wouldn’t anyone?” Noya said, color returning to his voice. “I got to see him spike again for real. Even if it’s ‘cause he was mad at me or ended up hurtin’ me, I don’t care.”

“…Oh man.” Ryū let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. Noya clicked his tongue, not liking that he didn’t get the joke.

“What?”

“Noya… man, I love you, but you are one dumb shit. Look.” Ryū paused the game and turned to face Noya head on, a serious expression on his face once more.

“Noya, normal teammates… they wouldn’t shove cotton gently up another teammate’s nose. They wouldn’t get all excited and happy getting’ hit in the face by a ball passively-aggressively hurled at them by another teammate. They wouldn’t care so much about another teammate not comin’ back that they’d quit as well. No one cares that much. No one feels that deeply. I’m not sayin’ it’s bad,” Ryū quickly added, holding up his hands. “But if normal’s what you’re aimin’ for with Asahi… this – whatever it is… it ain’t it.”

He picked up his controller again and resumed the game.

“Just somethin’ to think about. Not accusin’ you of anythin’. Or him, for that matter.”

Noya could only stare at the screen, Ryū’s words registering too deep for his liking. He’d heard them before. In junior high, after he’d become a starter. Earned the respect of the ace on their team, the captain. He was really inspiring on the court but whenever Noya had spoken up, gotten upset or angry or too impassioned, he’d just laughed. 

No one cares that much.  
You fixate on the weirdest stuff.  
What’s wrong with you, it’s just a game.

But Asahi hadn’t laughed. He’d yelled back, he’d fought, despite his meek nature he’d pushed back.

He’d cared.

Noya let out a slow breath as something warm in his chest flared up, his thoughts burning like a little fusion reactor in his brain when they connected. He concentrated on the game, trying to keep the little ideas dim enough to ignore even as they whispered to him that Asahi had cared, that Ryū was right. Ryū was too right, he knew too much, this was why Noya didn’t tell people things ever. They got to the conclusion before he did and it just left him feeling vaguely dumb and mystified. Seeing the answer to a math problem without all the steps worked out beside it.

He didn’t like this answer.

Noya quickly paused the game, the heat in his chest turning sickening. Suga smiling. His captain in junior high patting his back. Asahi’s fingers on his jaw in the nurse’s office. Guys he knew, guys he trusted and who had trusted him and he’d—

He’d lied to them. Apparently.

With a frustrated noise Noya hit himself in the forehead, ignoring Ryū’s alarmed cry of ‘what the shit, Noya.’ This wasn’t good. This was really bad, he couldn’t be this thing. He didn’t want to be this thing. He liked his life uncomplicated, his relationships simple like they were with his family or Daichi or Hinata or Ryū, everything had a single label that was easy to read and follow and now—

Now one of those relationships had two. One fuzzy and illegible, but definitely…

Definitely there.

Noya slowly tipped back until he was lying against Ryū’s bed, staring blankly at the wall. He dug his fingers into his hair, tugging.

“…Noya?”

“…I don’t want this, Ryū.”

He pushed himself up a bit, unable to meet his friend’s eyes.

“Can – did. Did the uh. Health book or whatever. Did it say if there’s a way to… to undo? The… the thing. The bi. Whatever.”

“…Don’t think that’s how it works,” Ryū said, hitting pause on the game again. “I could look if you want, but. Pretty sure it’s just a way of bein’. Like how Tsukishima’s stupid tall or Daichi’s got tree trunk arms. I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. You know that, man. Your secret’s safe.”

“I don’t want a secret,” Noya said desperately, aware he was sounding like a child and unable to stop. “I don’t want to know this, I don’t want even to have the suspicion! It’s terrifyin’ – no one’ll wanna play with me anymore if they find out! Shō – Hinata won’t want me to pat him on the back, Suga’ll be polite but he’ll avoid me and I-I don’t even know if I am or – or if it’s just somethin’ bein’ around Asahi too much did to me.” He lifted his head, staring desperately at Ryū. “That’s possible, right?”

Ryū rubbed the top of his head and let out a little breath.

“…I dunno,” he said. “I’m not an expert at this stuff, Noya. I’m graspin’ at straws here as it is. Tryin’ to put enough together to keep the conversation goin’ in a direction I hope’s at least a little helpful.”

“Could you maybe pick a different direction next time?” Noya asked, his voice clipped. “One that doesn’t end with me feelin’ terrified and wantin’ to stab myself in the brain like a suicidal zombie?”

Ryū blinked slowly and then suddenly grinned. “That’s – man, wouldn’t that be badass? Like you can feel yourself turnin’ so you just grab a stick and—” He stopped when Noya stared at him.

“…Sorry.”

“…It’s okay,” Noya mumbled, staring down at the floor. “…It is cool. Really noble. I like characters like that.”

“Yeah. I do too.” Ryū flicked his shoulder. “You’re kind of like that, y’know.”

Noya snorted, feeling a bit flustered despite the fog overtaking his higher thought processes. Shorting out. 

“No I’m not.”

“You totally are, dude. You could’ve just blamed Asahi for bein’ a freak and gone on with your life. Instead you’re fallin’ on the brain stick tryin’ to figure this out.”

“I’m trying to work through it for my own merit, Ryū. Not… not for him.” Noya rubbed his arm, wincing when he caught a bruise.“…Not only for him.”

Ryū sighed heavily, but when Noya lifted his head there was a small smile on his face. It faded quickly as Ryū silently regarded him.

“…You okay?”

Noya thought for a moment, pressing the bruise on his arm to stay focused. He slowly nodded. It was a mess, scary as hell, but it wasn’t as though he was dying or he was suddenly going to be a pariah. He clung to the thought, letting it put a mask of optimism over his growing fear.

“Kinda… half and half,” he said. “I’m… wobbly, I guess. Like I just got off a roller coaster. Bunch of adrenaline that won’t go away so I feel sick.”

“Ah.”

Ryū glanced at the door.

“You need alone time for a bit?”

Noya gave his friend a grateful look and started to push himself to his feet, but Ryū held out a hand, stopping him.

“It’s cool. I wanna check downstairs anyway. Dinner should be soon since closin’ time’s in half an hour. I can get you then?”

“Sure,” Noya said, picking up the controller again. “…Thanks, Ryū.”

“No problem. I know how you get.”

Ryū pushed himself up with a little ‘ayup’ noise that was incredibly dorky. Noya would have normally commented on it but let it slide. Ryū was almost out the door when he paused.

“Hey, Noya?”

Noya paused the game, casting a curious glance his friend’s way. Ryū looked a bit uncomfortable, shuffling from foot to foot. He finally cleared his throat and met Noya’s eyes.

“I just… wanted to make sure you knew. I’m not gonna leave or anythin’. I know that’s like, one seven-billionth of the potential people you could care about, but I dunno. One’s probably better than zero if you’re upset. Even if it’s kind of a useless one.”

Ryū rubbed the back of his head and then mumbled quickly, “Right, uh. Downstairs. I’ll get you when it’s time for—”

“Ryū.”

Ryū hesitated, his eyes darting to the side to glance longingly towards the hallway. Noya regarded his friend, gratitude so strong it drowned out everything else for a few blissful seconds.

“You’re the least far from useless person ever. I mean it. Actually ever. And next year everyone’s gonna understand that even more.”

He turned back to the game, waving a hand towards his friend. “And thanks. Wouldn’t let you leave even if you wanted to.”

“God, what a brat,” Ryū mumbled, but Noya could tell from his voice he was fighting off an embarrassed smile. “Just – stay there. Don’t go wandering the halls or my dad’ll rope you into another weird experiment.”

“You got it.”

Noya listened to Ryū thud down the stairs, the strident tone of his mother’s voice following not long after. He tried to let the game suck him back in. He wasn’t used to being stuck in his head like this. Not for long, not for this long and not about something that could potentially ruin so much.

On screen his ship exploded in a horrible fireball. Noya watched the wreckage float around, spotting a few dead pixels in the TV. Probably from when Ryū had punched it. Guy got worked up unnecessarily sometimes. 

Like he was one to talk.

Noya pressed his hands against his eyes, his toes curling against the tatami. The mask was starting to slip. It would slide back into place eventually, being alone made that easier to accomplish but—

He didn’t want this.

“No…”

He didn’t want this; he didn’t want this part of his personality. This doubt, the guilt. What if he ended up being on edge all the time? Counting the number of seconds he looked at someone, forcing himself to look longer at others just to prove a point to no one but himself. Because it wasn’t like he could go to a doctor, get a test positive or negative and know for sure. The past two days had been hell enough. How could he handle an entire year of it? More, maybe, because even if Asahi left, if he really wasn’t normal then it wouldn’t stop. It might never stop. The helpful hints and notes scribbled on the edges of his memories now. Pointing out when he’d stared, when he’d admired too much. Drops of sweat on the backs of necks, lithe, strong wrists, legs shaking from fatigue, bare shoulder blades in the club room.

“Fuck… n-no…”

Noya squeezed his eyes shut, a wave of anxious nausea rolling through him as he repeated his mantra. The childish, single word of defiance he could muster up against the cloying realization. 

Something wasn’t right. He didn’t know if it was actually that Thing or not, but something wasn’t right. This wasn’t him. Except that it apparently had been all along. He’d Jekyll-and-Hyded himself.

Ryū had known.

How much longer before everyone else put the pieces together themselves?

He lay there until Ryū called him down for dinner. It took him a bit to get his game face on – longer than he could recall it ever taking – but he finally headed down the stairs. The sound of human voices that didn’t belong to his own inner monologue helped chase away some of the unwonted ruminating. By the time he sat down at the small family table on the second floor, it was easy to return Ryū’s smiles, flash him a thumbs up and mouth that he was okay. 

The Tanakas were loud. Crazy loud. It was incredibly good they didn’t live in an apartment; they’d have been evicted a long time ago. Mr. Tanaka was still trying to sell his erotic sushi idea, and between his arguments and his wife’s flat-out denials and Ryū’s increasing humiliation Noya didn’t have to put much effort into conversation. He ate quietly, the knots unwinding in his head one by one until he could laugh again. Ryū flashed him a little grin before launching into another tirade against his dad’s idiocy.

When dinner was over, Noya volunteered to help with the dishes while Ryū and his mother headed into the living room to watch the Giant’s game. Mrs. Tanaka patted him on the back as she passed, and Mr. Tanaka ruffled his hair, going on for far too long about what a good kid he was. Noya just concentrated on scrubbing out the rice cooker pot, feeling his ears turn red. Hard habit to break.

After the dishes were all lined up in the drying rack, Noya went into the living room as well, taking a seat next to Ryū. His mother was focused completely on the game, her hands clasping at her knees as she leaned forward, almost falling off the sofa. Noya tugged his legs up to sit cross-legged, slightly bumping against Ryū.

“How’re they doing?”

“Terribly, what else is new,” Ryū muttered, letting out a sigh. “Losin’ to the Carp bad. But whatever.” He glanced down at Noya, one eyebrow raised.

“Better?”

“Better,” Noya said, quickly covering his ears as Mrs. Tanaka bellowed at the television. Once her rage had subsided he lowered his hands. He let out a little breath. “Still not sure what to do about, uh. A.”

“About A—oh! Oh, right.” Ryū pursed his lips in thought. He looked ridiculous.

“…I know this is a novel concept, so bear with me here, but have you thought about gettin’ to know the guy a bit better?”

Noya tilted his head to the side.

“…I think I know him pret—”

“Children, if you’re going to talk, do it somewhere else,” Mrs. Tanaka said through gritted teeth, still staring at the television. “Otherwise – Umpire are you blind?! Are you honestly hard of seeing he was clearly on the plate!”

“Oh god – Noya, c’mon,” Ryū said quickly, practically vaulting off the sofa. He made a beeline for his room and Noya followed him. Once they were settled again in front of the game, Ryū let out a breath and picked up the controller.

“Anyway, before we were interrupted by the ogre, I was goin’ to suggest that maybe you get to know him a bit better. A lot of what’s makin’ you upset is the fact that you don’t know why he did it, right? Or how you’re supposed to feel about it?”

“…I guess that’s true, but like I said, I think I know Asahi pretty well already,” Noya said, grabbing his own controller.

“Yeah, as a teammate, sure, but you guys have probably exchanged a grand total of two dozen words that weren’t said either in a gym of some kind, at a practice, or about volleyball,” Ryū deadpanned. “Okay, here. What’s Asahi’s favorite subject?”

Noya opened his mouth to respond but then closed it slowly.

“…I dunno.”

“Siblings?”

Noya clicked his tongue.

“Dunno.”

“Pants size—”

“Ryū!”

“See you don’t know anythin’! And for my money that should be step one,” Ryū said firmly, whacking Noya on the shoulder.

“What, figuring out his pants size?” Noya muttered, rubbing the offended area. “That’s skipping ahead five billion steps.”

“My stars, what a pervert,” Ryū clucked, mashing the buttons on his controller. “Figurin’ him out at all, idiot. Outside of our already-known common field of interest. Since it’s Asahi and he’s got all the fortitude of cooked spaghetti I don’t think he’ll be, uh… imposin’ himself on you again. I could follow you guys like a stalker or somethin’ just to make sure—”

“You’re gettin’ ahead of yourself again,” Noya grumbled, “Who says he wants to do stuff outside of practice? He’s a third year. He’s got better shit to do, probably.”

“Whoa, defeatist Noya rears its mythical head. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not defeatist! It’s rationalizing, okay?” Noya huffed, feeling a bit satisfied as he gunned down an enemy that had been aiming at Ryū. “And what would we do just the two of us? I don’t even know what we have in common—”

“That’s the whole point! Look – okay, just feel out the waters. Ask if he wants to hang out after practice tomorrow,” Ryū said in obvious exasperation. “I’ll back you up.”

Noya fell silent, his body going a bit cold. Fear. Ah, hell, was he seriously afraid of Asahi now. What was his life turning into. He hadn’t been afraid of anything since elementary school.

“…You’ll back me up?” he finally asked, his voice subdued.

“Totally. Invite myself in a flash if it seems awkward or if he tries to drag Suga or Daichi along,” Ryū promised. “That way it’ll morph into a team thing, no harm no foul.”

Noya nodded, clinging a bit too strongly to Ryū’s promise. And as much as he hated to admit it, it made sense. The unknown was what people were afraid of usually, right? Shine a flashlight right on it, not so scary. 

“Okay. Okay! Ah—” 

Noya slapped his hands against his cheeks, too worked up to do much else other than yell like an idiot and hit himself. Ryū burst out laughing.

“So it’s a plan?”

“Oh, totally, the absolute worst and most shoddy one but it’s a Plan,” Noya said firmly, grabbing his controller again. “Hell. God – fuck all I want to do is swear I’m so nervous.”

“I think if you swore in front of Asahi he’d implode,” Ryū snickered.

“Well when I’m really nervous I have trouble speakin’ at all as the Satsuki incident proved,” Noya said with a little sigh. “You might have to do all the invitin’ for me.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Ryū said in amusement.

“Yuyu! Are you spendin’ the night?”

Noya furrowed his brow and gave Ryū a questioning look. He just shrugged, so Noya called back down, “No, Mr. Tanaka! I’ll catch the train!”

“Better get goin’ soon, then! Last one leaves in forty!”

“What – oh, shit,” Noya cursed, grabbing his bag. He handed Ryū his controller despite his friend’s protests of ‘how am I supposed to control them both?!’ and stood up. He patted Ryū’s head as he headed towards the door.

“Sorry to run.”

“It’s cool,” Ryū said, hurriedly pausing the game. He pushed himself to his feet, following Noya down the stairs. “You seem better, at any rate.”

“…Think I feel better. I like having a Plan,” Noya said, stopping in front of the door. He lightly tapped his knuckles against Ryū’s shoulder.

“Thanks for the chocolate, by the way. Helped.”

Ryū snorted, his ears pinking just a bit.

“Liar. Saw it in your bag, still wrapped,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Noya grinned as he tugged on his shoes. What an idiot.

“Didn’t have to eat it. See you tomorrow!”

“Oi – gah, you loser, get outta here,” Ryū snapped, lightly kicking him in the ass and sending him sprawling out onto the street. Noya caught his balance and gave Ryū one last wave before jogging towards the station, his bag hitting his back with every stride.

Jogging wasn’t fast enough. Not to satisfy whatever was coursing through his veins.

Noya picked up his steps, a nervous burst of laughter pushing its way out of his chest.

God he was so fucked. So fucked, asking the guy who he’d been ready to push off a non-lethally high cliff the day before if he wanted to hang out. Like it was normal, like there wasn’t that weird year-long social gap between them, or the even larger emotional one. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly why he’d been kissed, exactly why those same feelings of dread that had made him run himself into the ground that morning were now pushing him to run up buildings.

Noya skidded into the train station, slamming his pass against the barrier. He didn’t stop until the tips of his toes were on the edge of the platform, the yellow bumps pressing up against the bottoms of his shoes. He ignored the worried looks of the few other people on the platform, only stepping back when the station attendant yelled at him to.

He was just lying to himself.

The train pulled into the station, its doors opening. Noya took his favorite spot right next to them, holding onto the handrail.

He had no answers. He was still just as lost, just as terrified of the stranger his sub-conscious was warping him into. Noya pressed his face against the glass doors, watching the city speed by.

The difference being, now he had a Plan.

(---)

His bravado lasted approximately six hours.

Noya stared at his bedroom ceiling, the covers pushed down around his ankles. Nightmare. Of course, of course he’d have bad dreams. Hadn’t been afraid since elementary school, hadn’t had a nightmare since elementary school. Made since that they’d return now. The pattern fit.

He pushed himself out of bed and staggered into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Thankfully the only thing left of the nightmares was a lingering feeling of ill ease. That he’d been hunted maybe. Or watched. The details were lost. Something about a mountain god and voices.

He stared at his reflection, poking the bags under his eyes. Practice was in two hours. Saturday practice, so half-day. Done at one o’clock.

Noya did a nervous little dance from foot to foot. Right. Okay. Routine! Routine would help keep him calm.

He quickly did his hair and tugged on his practice clothes before heading into the kitchen. Probably shouldn’t try cooking anything for breakfast. He’d burn the house down. He cast a longing glance at the toaster oven, but eventually just grabbed a few slices of bread and cheese and shuffled back into his room to eat them. Oh god he’d only wasted fifteen minutes. Normally his hair alone took that long because it refused to cooperate.

He slowly tipped backwards to lay on his futon, a piece of bread dangling from his lips. 

He was probably going to combust during practice.

When Noya left the house, the rest of his family was still asleep. It was rare that his mother went into work on Saturdays anymore. She’d bullied her way to the top of her firm and flat out refused to conform to non-mandatory overtime bullshit social pressure and the like. It made having missed her when he was younger worth it.

Noya jogged lightly to the school, waving at the monks sweeping the steps. They waved tiredly back. Apparently monks weren’t morning people either.

Noya stepped into the gym a few minutes later. He raised his eyebrows.

Apparently neither were his teammates. The few that had managed to show up ten minutes early, anyway. They were lying around half-heartedly stretching like partially-wound clockwork toys.

Noya let out a little laugh as he headed over to Ennoshita. He clapped the second year on the back and plunked down next to him to start stretching.

“Mornin’, Chika—”

“No,” Ennoshita said tiredly, pressing his hand over Noya’s face. “Quiet time, Nishinoya.”

Noya grinned but nodded and got back to stretching. Ennoshita could be pretty cute when he was tired. His eyes were half-lidded and he was wobbling a bit dangerous…ly…

…Shit.

Noya’s good mood evaporated instantly. He pressed his forehead against the floor, trying not to let his own internal monologue get to him. The door to the gym slid open. He recognized the cadence of footfalls before Daichi or Suga spoke.

“…and she told me it’s the silky kind you need. Not firm.”

“And here I thought you just sucked at cooking,” Daichi said, laughing when Suga punched him in the arm. He raised his hand to greet his team, and everyone tiredly called out their good mornings. Noya snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye. No Asahi.

He pushed himself to his feet and padded over to his captain’s side.

“Daich—”

“He’s helping Shimizu carry some things,” Daichi said, his voice light with amusement. “Don’t worry.”

Noya could feel his cheeks going slightly red, especially when Kinoshita whispered something to Narita about him being Asahi’s keeper.

“He who, Daichi?” Noya asked, doing his best to sound mystified.

Suga bit back a snort of laughter but quickly recovered and said patiently, “Asahi. Sorry, Nishinoya, did you need something?”

“Oh. Yes. I did.”

Shit. What could he say, what did he need—

His brain scrambled around in circles for a moment, trying to think of a good excuse. Before enough time had lapsed to make Suga awkwardly butt in for him, however, a voice over his shoulder caught their attention.

“Noya – oh good, you’re askin’ Daichi about borrowin’ the key for Monday mornin’ right?”

Noya shot Ryū a thankful grin as his friend moved to join their little circle.

“The key? Oh, sure.” Daichi fished it out of his pocket and held it out towards Noya. “You can give it back to me Monday. Sneaking in some extra practice?”

“Aha… yes, you know me,” Noya said weakly, accepting the key. “I can’t seem to get enough of injuring my body at early hours of the morning…”

“It’s one of the reasons we admire you,” Suga said, raising an eyebrow and giving Noya a look that said he clearly didn’t buy anything he was saying but he’d let it slide. Noya just laughed and let Ryū tug him away.

“Oi, oi… that was painful,” Ryū hissed once they were far enough. “Calm down. No one’s gonna be able to tell anythin’ if you’re just askin’ after Asahi. That’s normal.”

“How – never mind, you always were a good mind reader at the most inconvenient times,” Noya muttered, shoving the key in his bag as Daichi yelled at them to start running. “And bein’ alert’s part of my shtick, remember? Like a yippee guard dog, I believe was how you put it.”

He started to jog, Ryū keeping pace with him.

“You can tone down the jumpiness just a hair, though,” Ryū deadpanned. “You know how Asahi absorbs nervousness like a sponge. You’ll scare him off if you keep projectin’ like that.” He clapped Noya on the shoulder. “Just remember I got your back, okay? Relax.”

The hit made Noya stumble forward a bit, but he quickly regained his balance and flashed Ryū a grin. “I remember.” Truth be told it was the only reason he’d gotten any sleep the night before, but Ryū… yeah. He didn’t need to know that.

Asahi and Shimizu arrived at the gym with the extra equipment halfway into warmup. Noya watched out of the corner of his eye as Asahi smiled awkwardly and nodded at Shimizu way more than was necessary. She took pity on him after a while and waved him off to go start stretching.

Noya lowered his head to stare at the floor again as he finished his last set of pushups. He felt the floorboards tremble as footsteps approached, and then stopped near him. He touched his nose to the floor one last time and then pancaked with a grateful ‘oof’ onto the hard surface. He rolled over onto his back, blinking as he stared up at Asahi. The third year was regarding him with a wary look. His hair was still messy and his eyes half-lidded. Not a morning person, Noya remembered with a sudden jolt. Asahi was probably still half-asleep.

“Um…”

Asahi rubbed the back of his neck and then cautiously lowered a hand.

“H-Here…”

Noya grabbed it without thinking and Asahi hoisted him to his feet. He left the ground for a few seconds, but the familiar jolt in his shoulder, the sensation of leaving the floor was so fucking nostalgic, nostalgic of only two days ago, that he felt like a truck had barreled into his chest.

He quickly let go of Asahi’s hand, mumbling a polite ‘thank you’ as he struggled not to look away. Asahi just nodded in response and then said haltingly, “Suga… um. Said you were asking after me?”

Noya cursed. Conniving little –

“I was just making sure you weren’t planning on skipping anymore,” he said firmly, planting his hands on his hips. He pointed a finger at Asahi’s chest, the affected ire making him feel oddly better. “But you’re late! Kiyoko’s a delicate flower of a gentlelady but she can still carry water bottles by herself! You should get warmed up properly. You only woke up half an hour ago or so, right? I know you sleep until the last possible second. Your muscles are probably still half-asleep!”

Asahi started backwards, his brown eyes widening. For a moment he looked as though he might bolt, but then something in his expression changed. The corners of his mouth softened slightly, eyebrows unfurrowed as he let out a little puff of indignant air.

And then smiled. Completely unguarded.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, and Noya had to fight to keep the stern expression on his face. “Sorry, Nishino—”

He jumped half a foot when Daichi called out, “So stop staring and start running, slacker!”

“Daichi, gentle!”

Asahi ducked his head, whatever confidence demon that had temporarily possessed him vanishing like a puff of smoke. He tugged off his sweater as he began to jog, dodging swipes from Daichi and promises of an extra hard warmup from Suga.

Noya waited the requisite amount of time for what little attention their exchange had garnered to diminish before he let himself drop the act. He sat down heavily, legs not really wanting to work which was weird because his heart was pumping fast enough that he was amazed blood wasn’t shooting out of every orifice in his body.

“Noya, keep it together, man,” he heard Ryū say, the words taking a while to process. “Your whole face’s gone red.”

“Heat,” Noya said automatically, lying down on the floor.

“It’s spring.”

“Fever.”

“You just did fifty pushups. Somethin’ tells me you’re not sick.”

With a little growl Noya lashed out and caught Ryū on the shins with his foot. Ryū’s theatrics shifted enough attention away from him that Noya could slip into the supply closet under the pretext of grabbing carts and things and let himself cool down.

Okay. Okay, yesterday’s smile freakout hadn’t been a fluke. But so what, guy was handsome when he smiled. It was so rare it was like spotting a Yeti. Normal to get worked up about. 

Confidence firmly in place once more (affected or no), Noya headed back out into the gym, dragging two carts behind him. Practice got into full swing and he didn’t have the luxury of thought for several blissful hours. The moment the clock hit one, they all dragged their sorry selves to the sides of the gym, Kiyoko darting about like a precious, black-clothed angel, handing out water bottles and towels. She was so lovely, Noya observed with a drunken-sort of detachedness. Utter exhaustion, he was sure, but man was she pretty.

“Thank you, Kiyoko,” he mumbled, trying to lift an arm to accept the towel she was offering him. Arm didn’t want to move more than a few centimeters off the ground. Kiyoko waited patiently, but after a few seconds she simply stepped forward and draped the towel over his head, covering his eyes.

“Make sure to do a proper cool down,” she said softly, before hurrying away to help Take with something. Noya remained perfectly still, letting her dulcet tone echo in his head for as long as it could. Next to him Ryū let out a quiet whine.

“She talked to you…”

“She did,” Noya said, pride swelling up in his chest.

“…Think it’s an intuition thing? Like she knows you’re not actually gunnin’ for her anymo—”

Noya grabbed his water bottle and quickly squirted Ryū in the face to shut him up. After several aborted attempts at speech Ryū managed to un-waterlog himself enough to snap, “Okay, okay! Sorry – god fuck it went up my nose…”

He scrubbed at his face with a towel and then socked Noya in the side. Gently.

Noya grunted in response and pushed his towel onto his shoulders, rubbing himself down as best he could. He felt disgusting and completely drained. Great start to what he was about to do.

His eyes darting over to the other side of the gym where Asahi was talking with Ukai about something spiker related, judging by the number of times Ukai pointed to his elbow and made grandiose swinging motions. Noya sipped at his water, starting to feel jittery again. Ukai was still talking. The rest of the team was starting to leave, drifting out one by one. Ukai was still talking. It was just him and Ryū and the third years left. Still talking, god how much critique could one elbow need.

Ukai clapped Asahi on the shoulder and pushed him towards the door. Asahi stumbled for a few steps before jogging slowly over to join the rest of the third years. Noya sat upright, prodding Ryū in the shoulder.

“Ryū! Ryū – asshole, stop pretendin’ to be passed out,” he hissed.

Ryū pushed himself up with a little groan, but then fell quiet.

“He’s alone. Ish.”

“He’s alone ish,” Noya confirmed, standing up. His legs wobbled dangerously for a moment but they held his weight. He glanced down at Ryū who gave him a solemn salute.

“Just fart really loudly if you need me to come rescue you.”

“Don’t say ‘fart’ when Kiyoko is anywhere within possible earshot!” Noya hissed, “And – no. No I can’t fart that loud anyway I’ll just raise my voice and mention you or somethin’.”

“That’s incredibly less excitin’ but way more appealin’ in the olfactory sense. Go for it,” Ryū said, lightly kicking the back of Noya’s leg. “I’ll be here.”

Noya nodded and with a little breath jogged over to the third years. They were all talking animatedly, Suga describing some sort of weird comic book he’d found, but they lowered their voices as he approached. Noya gave them a respectful little nod before turning his attention to Asahi.

“Asahi.”

The third year blinked slowly before glancing around for a moment. Daichi rolled his eyes and flicked Asahi’s ear.

“He means you, dummy.”

“I know that,” Asahi said, rubbing his ear. “S-Sorry, Nishinoya. What, um…” His eyes darted around for a moment before he said weakly, “I thought I did okay in practice today… did I miss something?”

“What – oh! Oh, no, you were… adequate,” Noya said, Asahi’s timid words making it hard for him to keep up his gusto. He let out a slow breath, reminding himself that this was grabbing the bull by the horns. It was supposed to be scary.

“May I talk to you for a moment, Asahi? It’s nothing important, I promise.”

There. Perfectly delivered. As though he hadn’t practiced the single stupid line until he’d fallen asleep last night.

Asahi’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. But after a moment he nodded and stepped away from Suga and Daichi. The other two third years watched them curiously for a moment before slowly returning to their conversation, glancing their way every once in a while. Noya waited until they lost interest before he cleared his throat.

And then froze.

Oh shit. He’d been so preoccupied just getting the first line right he’d forgotten about the rest.

“I. Uh. So practice is. Done,” he said haltingly. Subject object verb, it wasn’t that hard oh my god. 

Asahi nodded slowly, pushing a few strands of sweat-soaked hair off his forehead.

“So you wanted to talk to me about practice…?” he cautiously encouraged.

“No. I – no, I didn’t,” Noya quickly emended, wincing as his language started to slip. “About, uh. After… practice…” He glanced across the gym towards Ryū, but his friend was preoccupied with pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping. Great.

“What about after practice? Did you want to come with Daichi and Suga and me to the shop?”

Noya fumbled for words for a moment longer before he gave up. He could… he could just ask Monday. Didn’t make a difference. It didn’t mean he was abandoning the Plan.

“Y-Yes. Please, if that’s all right,” he said, wilting slightly.

“Sure, it’s – you don’t have to ask just for that,” Asahi said quietly, rubbing his shoulder. He leaned in a bit more, lowering his voice. “I thought you might… we didn’t um… we didn’t really finish talking yesterday… I thought that’s… what you wanted to talk about…”

Noya tried for a moment longer to be a coward (it would be so, so much easier) but the nagging voice in his head wouldn’t let him. He had to know. If it was a disaster, it was a disaster. They were just teammates, there was no friendship to ruin if it turned out they couldn’t stand each other outside of a gym.

“I did, sort of,” he admitted, dropping his language just a bit. Asahi instantly looked terrified.

“O-Oh,” he stammered. “I – well, I’m not… surprised, but—”

“So if you’re hanging out with Daichi and Suga today after practice, does that mean you’re free tomorrow?” Noya pressed, throwing in the towel completely. It was too difficult to be subtle. Not worth it.

“Tomorrow – Sunday tomorrow?”

“That’s the day that comes after Saturday.”

For just a brief moment, Asahi looked exasperated, but then terror returned. He fiddled with his practice shirt before he slowly nodded.

“Yeah. I’m free,” he said cautiously. “…But there’s no practice tomorrow…”

“I am aware of the schedule we’ve had for the past year and a half, yeah,” Noya said quickly, now rushing to get the words out before Asahi’s nervousness rubbed off on him again. “I’m asking if you want to do something that isn’t practice. On Sunday. Which is tomorrow.”

Asahi’s lips parted slightly before he closed them again. He regarded Noya with something vaguely akin to wonder on his face.

“You – you want to hang out with me?” 

“Yes, please,” Noya said as politely as he could manage. Asahi wasn’t allowed to look that lost. “It’s just an invitation, Asahi. You’re free to decline it.”

“No,” Asahi said, too quickly. It took him a moment to recover from his own alacrity. “No, I – it’s hard to talk here, anyway, and I do… I owe you a proper conversation. At the least…” He rubbed the back of his neck again, and Noya waited for him to finish formulating his thoughts. After a few seconds Asahi met his eyes again.

“One o’clock? At the main station?”

Noya nodded, letting out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. One. A little late in the day for him but…

“That works for me. I’ll see you then.”

“O-Okay,” Asahi stammered, retreating the moment he sensed the necessary conversation was at an end. “So. Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” Noya confirmed. He tilted his head to the side, watching Asahi’s panic settle in behind his eyes. 

“…Am I going to need to call you to make sure you’re on time?”

“What? Oh. No, thanks. Even I don’t sleep that late, Nishinoya,” Asahi mumbled. “…But just in case—”

“I can do that,” Noya interrupted, spotting Ryū waving him down out of the corner of his eye. He gave Asahi a slight nod and then turned on his heel, calling out over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Asahi.”

“Y-Yeah… tomorrow…” 

Noya made a little face at the weak words, but he swallowed his comment and grabbed his bag. Weird. Kiyoko’s words he’d tried to hold onto as long as possible. Asahi’s he wanted gone almost the moment they hit his ears. They were so timid, released with a heavy reluctance he found incredibly off-putting sometimes. Half Asahi’s inflections were wrong, putting questions where they didn’t need to be. Half the things he said outside the court were forgettable, said with too little conviction to be worth saving. 

You’re right

You want to hang out with me?

I don’t want an apology, Nishinoya!

Nishinoya—

I told you to be careful!

I’m so sorry,  
Nishinoya

Noya felt his cheeks color and he hightailed it out of the gym, Ryū clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating him quietly on pinning down the elusive Azumane.

Maybe some were worth holding onto. 

Just a bit longer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s more family headcanon stuff in this chapter! Just mentions of it but credit goes to poulerslashes over on tumblr for being my family headcanon brainstorming buddy. P.S. If you're interested in more headcanon family stuff you should go read her drabbles over on tumblr.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ryū ended up buying him three ice creams. Noya had horked the first one down so fast he’d barely tasted it, so clearly it didn’t count. Clearly. Ryū was reluctant to hear reason. Noya had pointed out that Kiyoko had chosen to grace him with her heavenly commendation, so obviously appeasing him was the closest Ryū was ever going to get to appeasing her.

Ryū had given in.

They parted ways in front of the store. Noya struggled to keep from ruining his uniform with his blue-stained fingers as he adjusted his bag. Sometimes he wondered what his insides looked like. Probably a horrible mix of blue and organ meat.

“Gotta cut back,” he muttered to himself, giving Ryū one last wave as his friend yelled at him to get online once he got home, they needed to strategize for tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Oh god.

Noya sprinted home, needing to work off the excess energy. Turned out to be a mistake, of course, as he ended up puking blue in the rainwater canal. Thankfully only a few impressionable neighborhood children saw, and he warned them of the dangers of ice cream and if they had any candy they should probably hand it over to him now before they suffered a similar fate.

He staggered into the house, a pack of gummies clenched between his teeth.

“Home!” he called out, voice slightly muffled.

“Welcome back!” his father returned from the kitchen. He poked his head into the entryway and immediately frowned.

“Yū—no candy! Lunch’s in five!”

“Not hungry,” Noya said, heading to his room.

“Did you stop at the store again? Don’t let your mother know. She’s out in the garden now and still very mad about your face. The injury, not in general. Although she didn’t really specify so this is just me hoping for your sake.”

Noya rolled his eyes, but gave his father a salute and slid the doors to his bedroom shut behind him. His futon had been folded and placed in the corner. His dad’s doing, no doubt. Everything smelled clean. Noya glanced at his computer, debating for a moment before he decided Ryū had helped enough. Time to figure things out on his own.

Fifteen minutes later he’d emptied out nearly his entire closet trying to find a T-shirt that wasn’t dumb because it was just hitting him that tomorrow would be the first time Asahi saw him in anything that wasn’t sweaty workout clothes or pajamas that doubled as sweaty workout clothes.

And why did he care.

With a frustrated wail Noya buried his face in the pile of shirts before dragging himself over to his computer. He logged on and waited impatiently for the chat client to load. The moment it did he sent Ryū a message.

/clothes why didn’t i think about clothes ryū what do I wear/

He tugged his computer over closer to his closet and started stuffing the obviously poor choices inside. His computer dinged and he immediately abandoned his project.

/dude what. i dunno. does it matter? asahi probably dresses like a rebellious grandfather who’s only half-certain of what he’s doing. just wear that stupid cuff watch you think is cool and a t-shirt or something./

There came a pause.

/and you know this isn’t a date right/

Noya practically ground his fingers to dust he replied so quickly.

/yeah i know but it still matters! i don’t wanna look dumb/

/unbleach your hair. problem solved./

/you balding asshole why do I bother talking to you/

“Yū! Can you go pick Taka up? He’s carrying home his science project today!”

“Ah hell,” Noya mumbled before calling back, “Sure! Gimme a sec!”

He quickly typed, /family stuff ttyl/, and then shut his computer. His father gave him a sandwich and a grateful smile and promised they’d have pizza or something for dinner. Noya tried to act excited but it was hard when he was mentally twenty two hours in the future. Obsessing about T-shirts and outfits and what exactly he was prioritizing in his life.

Taka’s science project turned out to be a gigantic terrarium full of wood carver ants. Noya was momentarily impressed before he realized he had to lug the whole thing the twenty or so blocks back to their house because they wouldn’t let him on the train with it. It took him nearly forty minutes, and when he finally set the damned thing down in Taka’s room he was completely exhausted. His legs barely supported him and he finally gave up and slid down the stairs on his butt. His exhaustion was so bone-jarringly deep he didn’t even remember to be nervous about tomorrow.

Until he woke up.

Noya glanced at his clock. Five thirty. That was some number of hours before he had to leave. 

He did the math. Slowly. 

Six… no. Seven hours.

What was he going to do for seven hours. Why did Ryū sleep in all the time; he needed someone to talk to. Ennoshita would just flat out murder him. He didn’t feel comfortable discussing fashion choices with the first years at five thirty in the morning. Or ever, really.

With a little grunt Noya managed to extract himself from his duvet. A quick run and bath later found him sitting in front of his desk, reluctantly trying to catch up on some homework. His notes were practically illegible. He’d written an embarrassing number of nicknames for himself in the margins. Probably should burn the pages. Or frame them.

He ended up falling asleep, nose pressed into the spine of his math book. When he finally prised his face from the concrete-drool that was holding him captive, it was twelve thirty and he was going to be late.

With a loud string of curses (that earned him several promises of immediate retribution the moment he returned home), he grabbed his wallet and was out the door. He sprinted to the train station, barely managing to squeeze in through the closing doors. He ended up wedged between a group of high-school girls and some douchey salary men on their day off who kept ogling them. He tried to put himself between the weridos and the girls but they had just rolled their eyes and complained too loudly about how elementary school kids shouldn’t be allowed to ride the train by themselves on Sundays. He didn’t bother correcting them. At least the bruising on his face had gone down enough to not be immediately noticeable, otherwise people would probably be saying a lot worse about him.

The moment the train began to move, he realized he didn’t have Asahi’s cell phone number. Which meant he had no idea if the guy was even awake or if he was even going to show up or if he was going to chicken out like Noya was sure he really, really wanted to even though it was The Plan and was going to solve all his problems.

But what were they going to do.

Get coffee? Go see a movie? Awkwardly talk about the single gay kiss they’d shared until Asahi’s embarrassment took physical form and began rampaging? 

Noya furrowed his brow as he stared out the window, watching the buildings streak by. There was a little buzzing in his stomach. Nervousness. But the sort he felt right before setting foot onto a court. Watching another player’s save. The split second between inhaling sharply and forcing himself to take a step forward to talk to someone new. Which was strange because it was just Asahi. He’d known him for over a year. Barring a few months, vacations and suspensions, they’d spent nearly every day in each other’s company in some capacity.

But for some reason his fingers were twitching. Vision going all tunneled from adrenaline and excitement. 

It was just Asahi. The idiot who had kissed him. Which may have been the thing on the forefront of Noya’s mind, but it was hardly the most of what Asahi was. What he was the most of, was tall, shy, awkward, and a bit sweaty. All things Noya knew how to deal with. Take longer steps to keep up with his stride if they walked somewhere. Be the one to initiate and guide conversation. Mock gently. And don’t touch, slash discretely offer him a handkerchief if he looked ready to perspire. Easy easy easy easy. And it wasn’t as though there was any chance of anything like that happening again. No gym to hide behind or overwrought emotions to get them all worked up.

…Hopefully.

The jittery excitement shot up to child-at-Disneyland levels when the train pulled into the station. It was packed as usual, and Noya let himself be swept along like a super-charged pinball to the main exit that led to the arcades and shopping malls. Just as he managed to extract himself to head to his usual rendezvous point, the sky chose to split open, spilling an entire deluge of water onto the street. 

Noya cursed (a bit too loudly) and jumped backwards, taking shelter under one of the little overhangs for the bike racks. He reflexively checked his phone before remembering, oh right, he was an idiot, and gave that up. He clambered up onto one of the racks, trying to spot Asahi in the crowd. It shouldn’t be hard. Giant with too much hair trying to blend in. Tended to make him stick out even more.

The rain was coming down even harder and the wind had picked up. The front of Noya’s shirt was getting soaked. Just as he was about to retreat, he spotted a tall figure weaving among the crowds. It was pushed out into the rain, momentarily lost as a flurry of colorful umbrellas opened up.

Noya hummed with hopeful buzzing and jumped off the rack. He wasn’t even sure it was Asahi, but it was worth a shot.

“Asahi!”

The umbrella wielders jostled against one another as something suddenly blocked their path. Noya pushed his way through the crowd, rainwater dripping down from the umbrellas above him, soaking his shoulders. In the middle of the swarm, a single form remained still, craning his neck and peering over the crowd. Over and slightly down. Even though logic dictated that only Asahi would be oblivious enough to stand out in the middle of a rain storm to look for him, it still took Noya’s brain a few moments to get a positive ID.

His steps slowed as he approached his teammate. As he approached Just Asahi.

Just Asahi.

Whom Noya barely recognized.

It was partially a context thing, Noya quickly tried to justify. No uniform, no workout clothes, no gym. But still Just Asahi. His hair was slightly disheveled, the rain and wind tugging a few strands out of the loose half-bun. Ryū had predicted grandpa clothes and Noya was slightly relieved, mildly disturbed, and oddly proud that his friend had been completely wrong. Asahi looked put-together. There really wasn’t another word for it. Tight jeans, boots, V-neck, button up rolled to the elbows, ridiculously fashionable-looking scarf he had no business wearing – no business even knowing about, how did Asahi look so magaziney? Girls turned their heads as they passed him to stare, their cheeks dusting pink before they looked away again, huddling under their umbrellas and laughing too quietly to be heard over the rain. Their lips all shy smiles and speculative gossip. Guys apologized when they bumped into him immediately, hurrying away a bit too fast to be natural.

All of the pent-up energy sparked into Noya’s heart in one, painful static charge. 

Okay. Fuck, okay.

Maybe not Just Asahi.

Noya watched his teammate scan the crowd, a slightly anxious narrowing of his eyes the only indication he was upset. Seemingly obviously to the stares, jealous wistful admiring or otherwise, directed at him. The way the crowd parted for him even though he was the one in the wrong, standing still smack dab in the middle of the crossing.

If not Just Asahi, then who exactly was this?

Brown eyes finally caught sight of him. Asahi’s face lit up and he eased his way through the throngs. A vegetarian orca gently parting a sea of flustered, suicidal penguins. 

He stopped in front of Noya, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He smiled, and when he spoke his voice was weak with relief and surprise.

“You made it.”

Noya nodded, his mouth too dry to form words properly. Brain too full of buzzing to work. Teammate. Teammate, teammates didn’t dress like this, they didn’t look good in the rain. They were supposed to look like Ryū did, like an abandoned puppy. Or Chikara a drowned rat. Hinata that one time bedraggled and whining from the cold. Tsukishima silently fuming as he tried to clean his glasses.

“Y-Yeah,” he finally managed to say, blinking water out of his eyes. “Sorry I’m late. I don’t have your cell number.”

“What? Oh! Oh – shoot, that was dumb of me,” Asahi said, suddenly flustered and proper Just Asahi again, dressed in ratty gym clothes and old trainers. It made Noya relax, his feet planted firmly on the ground once more. Static charge bleeding into the earth instead of making his heart short-circuit. He felt solid, the more flustered and nervous Asahi became. The sort of feeling he got when Taka came sneaking into his room at night, crying about a nightmare. 

Asahi reached into his pocket and then stopped, tiling this head back to blink up at the rain.

“…Probably shouldn’t take my phone out now.”

Noya let out a burst of surprised laughter that made Asahi jump and look ready to bolt again.

“Probably not,” Noya said quickly, trying to keep Asahi calm. The taller boy was starting to eye the bicycles. Cheapest getaway. Best to derail that thought before Asahi stole some poor girl’s bike to flee the awkwardness of a first-hangout scenario. “Let’s head back inside and plan or something.” Noya headed back towards the station, trusting Asahi to follow. “We can just find some place to sit down,” he suggested. “Are you hungry or—“

Asahi suddenly sneezed violently, staggering backwards a few paces. Noya let out a loud HA of laughter, the sight of the behemoth in trendy clothes struggling to stay upright too much to handle. 

“Or cold, I was gonna – going to say,” he said, reaching up to lightly tug on Asahi’s sleeve. The guy wasn’t looking at him again, his eyes all darty and panicked. Oh brother. How had someone like Asahi ever managed to conjure up an emotion even resembling fear in him? Noya let out a little breath and then said as encouragingly as he could, “Come on, Asahi. Let’s get food.”

“Okay,” said Asahi meekly, letting himself be led around. It took Noya a few minutes of staring at the station area map before he remembered the small family restaurant tucked up in the second floor. It was thankfully empty enough to accommodate them, and after only a few minutes the hostess was showing them to a booth. Noya slid into the seat, choosing the one that put his back to the restaurant. Asahi probably liked having a wall behind him. 

It was still pouring out. Raining even harder, maybe. It splattered against the windows, making little plink plink noises. Noya pressed his face against the glass, watching the umbrellas head towards the shopping area. The distant neon lights looked creepy and dystopian in the downpour. It made the hair on the back of Noya’s neck stand up from something other than cold. Fantastical excitement, maybe.

A bit of movement caught his attention, and he pulled back enough to get a proper look at his reflection. He groaned quietly, running his fingers through his hair. Rain ruining his look. Fifteen minutes of careful grooming wasted. 

Thankfully Asahi was in a similarly distressed state. He blinked water out of his eyes and tugged at his soaked T-shirt, looking completely bewildered. As though he had no idea how he’d ended up so bedraggled. It helped the buzzing in Noya’s stomach subside a bit more. This he knew. These patterns of behavior. The nervous glances, the way Asahi hunched his shoulders to try and seem smaller than he actually was. A very tiny, soft-shelled human shoved inside a lumbering shell. It had probably just been a fluke, earlier, that had made Noya feel so worked up. The stress of almost being late, of the rain, no cell number.

Asahi sneezed again, nearly braining himself on the wall behind him, and the last of Noya’s doubts vanished.

Just Asahi.

Thank god.

The waitress brought by warm hand towels wrapped in plastic and dropped off a few menus. She looked as though she wanted to say something more – rattle off their specials or seasonal items – but after only a moment she shuffled away and then flat-out scurried to the other side of the restaurant, casting nervous looks over her shoulder. Noya watched her go, slightly confused.

“Wonder what her deal is,” he said absently, swiping at his hair again before ripping the plastic off his towel. It was warm, at least, and he pressed his face against the cloth. It smelled like bleach. He could feel himself dripping onto the bench. Asahi was probably doing the same. Amazed they’d been seated at all.

Ah, he realized with a sudden jolt of rare revelation. The waitress was flustered, that was it. Like the girls outside the station. Staring at Asahi. She didn’t understand that this was still Just Asahi despite his decidedly un-Just-Asahi appearance. She probably had buzzing in her stomach too.

“Her deal?”

Asahi’s questioning tone made Noya raise his head. He gestured vaguely towards the waitress who was hovering around the edges of the room.

“See? Flustered,” he said, giving Asahi a studied look, wanting to see how he’d react. “Because of you.”

“W-What?” Asahi immediately stammered, looking hunted. “Because she thinks I’m scary or–” He stopped talking when Noya shook his head. “…Oh. The other one, then.” 

Asahi’s large fingers fiddled with the plastic over the towel before he ripped it open, every movement practiced. Orchestrated. “…I’d disagree. Vehemently.”

Noya snorted and sat back in his booth, watching Asahi methodically wipe his hands with the towel.

“I think I can count on one hand the number of times I would use that adjective to describe you, Asahi,” he said, the words lacking venom. 

Asahi gave the waitress another nervous look before he tugged his hair out of its ruined bun, mussing it a bit. Drops of water landed on his shoulders and he spent too long plucking at his shirt, at stray hairs, at his scarf, to be the unconscious actions he obviously wanted to pass them off as.

“Vehemence isn’t my strong suit, no,” he finally said, lowering his hands. His hair was still stuck to his forehead in a haphazard side-sweep. “It’s sort of hard for me to remain that worked up for long. I get tired quickly.”

The waitress came sidling back over for their drink orders. Noya ordered a melon soda and waited patiently for her to force out enough words to give Asahi the full run down of their tea selection. Asahi finally made up his mind (Noya had spaced out halfway through the list, missing what he’d settled on), and when she left he came back to the present to find himself staring down a very sedate Asahi. Asahi reached up to tie his hair back, the bun even looser than before. 

“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about, Nishinoya?”

It was amazing what a steady tone did for his voice. Like that god with two faces plastered to one head. Same vocal chords. Totally different sort of deity.

Noya grabbed the plastic from his towel, shredding it to keep himself focused. Before he could bask more in the hilarity of Asahi sneezing himself halfway to death, there was Business to take care of. The Plan.

He waited until the waitress had brought them their drinks and took their orders (he ordered pasta something, didn’t matter) before he finally nodded.

“So there’s a… what’s it. Dinosaur in the room.”

“Elephant,” Asahi quietly corrected. “…Although dinosaur seems more appropriate in this case. Somehow.”

“Yes. That – gigantic prehistoric disapprovingly not a dragon. Thing,” Noya said, waving vaguely in the direction of the rest of the restaurant. “The thing where you kissed me and then –”

“S-Shh – Nishinoya, not so loud,” Asahi hissed, plummeting back down to the realm of near-constant terror he seemed to occupy. Noya gave Asahi an exasperated look. Really.

“You kissed me.”

Said just a hair louder.

Asahi went pale.

“Nishonoya—“

“What, like it didn’t happen?” Noya said a bit too sharply for his own liking. He immediately held up a hand in apology before Asahi could try and hide under the table.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he said as evenly as he could. “That’s too much like fighting and I don’t want to fight. I want to talk.”

Asahi still looked a hair away from imploding in on himself from stress, but he finally gave a little nod.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I… well, I figured that was why you invited me out. Why else would you…”

Noya opened his mouth to berate Asahi for winning the Low-Self-Esteem-Award of the century, but then thought better of it. Still too much like fighting. There was exactly one person who could maybe help him sort through all of the thoughts that were starting to take up permanent residency in his very limited brainspace. He wasn’t good at this stuff. Figuring out someone’s motivations. Why didn’t people just announce what they were going to do? It worked in comics, most of the time. Not so much for villains, but he didn’t know any villains so it would work.

He needed Asahi. Being blunt maybe wasn’t an option.

Oh god he wasn’t going to survive this conversation.

He let out a little breath to calm down and then stared at Asahi for a long while, being patient. A strong suit of his that he’d decided he wanted to possess, and so had made himself learn. Most people found that hard to believe for whatever reason.

To his credit Asahi met his eyes for a few seconds before looking away, his shaking hands cradling his teacup. He brought the cup to his lips and then made a slight face and set it down too quickly. Noya narrowed his eyes in silent question and Asahi gave him a weak smile.

“I… I actually wanted hot chocolate,” he admitted quietly. “But people always look at me so funny when I order it. It’s a kid’s drink or… I don’t know. It doesn’t fit me.”

Noya pressed his lips together and then with a little snort pressed the button to call the waitress back. She appeared far too quickly and far too close to Asahi’s side of the table.

“Y-Yes?”

Noya pointed to Asahi.

“He wants a hot chocolate,” he said cheerfully, ignoring Asahi’s valiant attempts to suppress his words by flailing his hands around. “As much whipped cream as you can shove in the cup, please. Two spoons ‘cause I have to be honest, most of the whipped cream I will be eating.”

Her eyes widened slightly but she gave a little nod and scuttled off. The moment she was gone, Noya leaned across the table and reached out to lightly flick Asahi’s forehead. The other boy jerked backwards, eyes flying wide open in surprise. He rubbed at his forehead and then said a very delayed and very pathetic, “Ow.”

“Good,” Noya said vehemently. “I hate to steal the captain’s move – haven’t earned the right to use it properly yet –but I really wanted to hit you.”

“…Please don’t hit m—”

“I’m not gonna! Going to – dang it.” Noya took a moment to reign himself in. Just Asahi or no, upperclassman was upperclassman. Years of being in sports clubs made it nearly impossible to shake the unease that came with throwing around casual language directed at someone older than him. He let out a slow breath and then stared at Asahi, expectantly.

The older boy quailed.

“…S-So you really want me to talk about… in detail – I-I thought… you might have been okay with just letting it go,” Asahi said quietly. “We could just chalk it up to a fluke or… or something…”

“We could,” Noya agreed, the temptation incredibly strong. He made a frustrated noise and pushed it away. No. He’d just keep ruminating, and that wasn’t his job. That was Asahi’s job. Asahi and his ilk. Probably Tsukishima, he seemed the type. Kageyama, definitely.

“We could,” he repeated. “But I won’t let you. Or myself, either. Because… hm.” He fell quiet as the waitress brought by their food and the hot chocolate, taking the time to gather his thoughts. The moment she left again he nudged Asahi’s shin with his foot before grabbing a spoon and stealing most of the whipped cream. Asahi didn’t fight the theft.

“Because I think it’s probably important to you,” he finished, carefully leaving himself out of the equation, since that’s how it probably should be. He’d been passive during the whole exchange. It was Asahi’s action completely, barring what led up to it. His suspicions about the Mr. Hyde corner of his own brain he could work out himself. Asahi couldn’t tell him what he was or wasn’t. Only what Asahi was.

Asahi nursed his now-inferior hot chocolate for a bit, an utterly dejected look on his face.

“…I suppose asking you to take the easy way out was dumb to begin with on my part,” he mumbled.

Noya politely refrained from comment.

Asahi let out a little breath, tapping his fingertips against his mug. “So. You, um. You probably want to know… why. Why I did it,” he said softly. “Or if I’m… if. There’s. An aspect of my, uh. Character that’s. Slightly. Deviant.”

Noya nodded, picking at the garlic bread that had come with his pasta. It was weird to hear Asahi speak about something personal. Even if he was being insufferably equivocal.

“To start with, please,” he said politely, squashing the excited buzzing again. He always got worked up over gossip like this. It was hard to remember that it involved actual people sitting right across from him and their very delicate feelings.

Asahi squared his shoulders. He met Noya’s eyes and gave a sharp nod.

“I owe you that much, at least,” he said, words falling in a more even cadence. “But I—to the first part, I don’t… know why I did it. Not really. I think in the heat of… of everything, my… my admiration of you and then other… things I’ve been wrestling with that lead into topic number two. Sort of. Mixed?” He gestured vaguely, looking lost once more as his posture collapsed. “And as for topic number two, I – I don’t… I don’t know either. Sometimes I think… I think there might be something wrong. But then other times it’s fine. I don’t feel much of anything.” He let out a puff of air, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Sort of to a detrimental degree. Maybe.”

Noya tore his bread into chunks as he let the words sink in. Each one sucked away a bit more of the frantic energy in his head, placing him on an even keel.

Even slowly tipped in the opposite direction as his brain organized the information. Pointing out logical conclusions that he would have missed if he’d started talking again immediately like instinct had told him to.

Asahi had no idea either. That hadn’t been part of The Plan. Noya had stupidly assumed that when you kissed someone you had reason behind it. Emotion or passion or love or lust or one of those big pretty looking words that people liked to talk about on a more abstract level. Romantic like Ryū had said. Cheek touching. He didn’t get abstract levels or romance or cheek touching, but he’d thought that someone like Asahi did with how much time he spent in his own head.

“So you don’t… like me?” he hedged, risking a glance up at Asahi. All the color was drained from the third-year’s face. He cleared his throat and rested his hands on the table.

“I don’t… know,” he said. Very quietly.

Noya took a second to digest that before sat back in his booth, a troubled frown tugging at his lips. Well, shit. He’d been expecting a yes or no. Which in retrospect was stupid because A. it was Asahi and B. he’d only planned to ask the question about two seconds prior. How could you feel weird when something you’d only been expecting for two seconds didn’t happen? 

Noya pressed a hand against his chest, scared for a brief, panicky moment that he was having a heart attack. That too much of the buzzing had been sucked away and his organs had nothing left to run on. Something was hurting, anyway. A deep throbbing, like a second heart was pumping in his chest. Opposite to his real one. Pushing all the blood back in until he was too full of it and everything under his skin stretched too tightly with a dull, uninteresting, horrible ache.

He counted to five, and when he didn’t die, he reasoned not a heart attack. Something else.

He cast Asahi a shrewd glance.

Something Asahi related.

Asahi for his part looked utterly miserable. His face was pinched and he was biting his lip so hard Noya was amazed there was anything left of it. Before Noya could say anything, Asahi blurted out, “I’m so sorry,” in a desperate, drowning way.

Noya winced as that second heart in his chest beat stronger. It was making him feel sick from the pain.

“Why sorry?” he asked, grabbing his soda and sipping at it. The liquid didn’t really help. It was too sweet and cloying. His tongue felt sticky.

“Because I couldn’t say no,” Asahi said miserably, pressing a hand against his face. “D-Didn’t. Didn’t say no.”

“…Coming from you, Asahi, ‘I don’t know’ is about as close to a blunt ‘not a chance’ as it gets,” Noya pointed out, somehow not really cheered by Asahi’s confession. He let out a little breath and then thumped his chest once. Still not dead. Good sign. And he’d wanted answers, hadn’t he? To put an end to the Business. Now he had most of them, even if they were unexpected or disappointingly dull. Just a bit more and then the whole thing could go in the fluke pile, along with that time he’d accidentally seen Ennoshita naked or walked in on his parents doing. Things.

He quickly moved on before the mental image had time to re-latch its claws into his brainstem.

“But what I don’t understand is, how could you not know?” he pressed as gently as he could. “If that’s what you really mean.”

Asahi gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look.

“What – it’s normal not to know! And you’re really c-confusing,” he stammered.

“Not half as confusing as you,” Noya pointed out, sipping at his soda. “Kissing another guy you don’t even think you like. Who does that? And I don’t mean that in an angry, spiteful way, although—” He made a frustrated noise. He didn’t want to make Asahi feel worse. And Asahi would just beat himself up if he knew that Noya had been. Beating himself up.

God they were both so dumb.

Before Noya could construct a thought that wouldn’t make Asahi short-circuit, the other boy sighed and stared at the table, a desolate look on his face.

"I know," he said quietly. "This isn't fair to you. And I was really happy when you said you wanted to hang out because it meant... it meant that you didn't hate me or maybe I had even done something right instead of something awful or... or more right than awful things. So the scales tipped to neutral. But then last night I couldn't sleep I was so nervous. Part of me was convinced you weren't going to show up and that you were just tricking me so you and Tanaka could hide in the bushes and watch me panic..."

Noya stared at Asahi in surprise, the ache in his chest forgotten.

"You really thought that?"

Asahi nodded glumly.

“Oh.”

Noya let out a little laugh, a reluctant part of him realizing he found Asahi’s fear endearing rather than annoying like he should have. Used to. First year him had absolutely loathed it. He’d evolved, probably.

"Asahi, no one is that mean,” he said. “No one outside of fiction, anyway. If this were an eighties cop drama, yeah I probably would have pulled some horrible prank on you. Bought you a cheap-blow-up doll with a picture of my face attached to it or set you up on a series of really god-awful blind dates just to get back at you. But no one does that kind of stuff in real life. I promise."

Asahi stared at Noya for a long moment, an empty smile twisting his lips.

"...You're really lucky, Nishinoya," he said finally. "That you're the kind of person who can still believe that."

Noya frowned, not really understanding. There was a dark bruise there, on Asahi’s psyche. That much he could tell. And as morbidly fascinating as it would be to prod it, he let it go. It wasn’t his wound to torment.

He moved on.

“So if you don’t know if you like me, do you know if you’re. Uh.” He wrinkled his nose. “Gay.”

Asahi’s whole face turned bright red at the word. He stared down at the table and then nodded sharply. Once.

“L-Like I said, it’s not all the time but… sometimes. I… I worry that I am,” he said quietly.

Noya sat up a bit straighter, the buzzing returning, albeit slightly dulled. “That’s the most straightforward you’ve been all afternoon,” he pointed out, latching onto the topic of conversation that didn’t have to do with him. “Which is kind of amazing. It can’t be easy to admit, right? Unless you’ve had practice.”

Asahi hesitated and then slowly shook his head.

“N-Nope,” he mumbled. “You’re… you’re the first. To guess outside of… well there was a guy I… we. Um. K-Kissed and things. A bit. In junior high.”

Noya felt that second heart in his chest spring to gleeful life again, wringing out every last fucking artery he had. “W-Wait,” he stammered, struggling to get his mental balance while he dealt with his desiccated organs. “I’m not the first guy you kissed?”

Asahi reluctantly shook his head again.

“In junior high… another member of the team and I… we didn’t do much,” he said, toying with the spoon in his cup. His eyes were slightly clouded over. “I was a second year. He was an upperclassman – really… kind of bossy. But he liked me for some reason so… it’s hard when you’re that age to not like someone just because they show interest in you.”

“…Whoa,” Noya said slowly, trying to wrap his head around that. The image shocked him enough that he forgot about his own whiplash of emotions. He leaned forward a bit more.

“So? What happened? Did you break up because he graduated?”

“O-Oh we were never dating,” Asahi said quickly, the spoon clinking in his cup. “He said my personality – that it wasn’t one he thought he should get too close to. He’d get sick of it.”

Noya instantly bristled, every nerve in his body stilling.

“…He told you that? To your face?”

“I appreciated his honesty,” Asahi protested. “And he had a point…”

“You didn’t get mad?”

“No… I mean, you can’t help what you don’t like… and he was just being smart about things. He probably saved us a lot of trouble…”

“Asahi, get mad!” Noya said sharply, as though to demonstrate. “This is why I have trouble with you sometimes! You can be so so wishy-washy about things that are kind of important! Like kissing people! You know people write songs and stuff about it? It’s important! They don’t write songs about stuff that’s like, ‘oh well maybe I’ll sort of press my lips against this other person’s for no reason,’ it’s supposed to mean something! Don’t just – don’t go around kissing guys who are jerks! Jeez…”

Asahi had flinched at the first onslaught of words, but then remained obediently still, listening to the lecture. When Noya finally caught his breath, though, he noticed a strange look in Asahi’s eye.

“What?”

“What? Oh! Oh, um… it’s probably nothing,” Asahi said quickly, looking away again. He cleared his throat and drummed his large fingers on the table before asking cautiously, “Nishinoya… was that your first kiss?”

Noya froze, his whole face slowly turning beet red as the truth of Asahi’s words slowly melted into the cracks in his brain. He hadn’t even realized it himself.

Oh hell. This was humiliating.

He gave a tiny nod. Asahi instantly looked horrified.

“…Oh no,” he whispered. “Oh no – oh no, Nishinoya, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay – geez, don’t be so loud,” Noya mumbled, ducking his head to avoid looking anywhere at anything ever. “First kisses aren’t a big deal.”

“But you just got done saying—”

Noya let out a little groan and pressed his hands against his face, more mortified than he would ever admit. Asahi thankfully shut himself up before Noya had to kick him in the shins. He heard Asahi shift around in the booth and then his deep voice asked nervously,

“Did you mean that?”

“Mean what,” Noya mumbled, still refusing to lift his head.

“That… that it’s okay?”

Noya peered at Asahi through his fingers, not understanding for a moment before it clicked. Why Asahi looked so hopeful.

He slowly lowered his hands and then gave a firm nod. Right. This wasn’t about him. He’d been passive. Acted upon. Whatever was slowly strangling him inside his chest, taking away his desire to even pick at his food, making melon soda just a cup of nasty syrup, that was on him. Right now Asahi looked helpless and scared and too much like he’d had a horrible, horrible nightmare. Instinct kicked in. Soothe, protect, reassure.

“…Yeah, Asahi,” Noya said, with every ounce of confidence he could muster. “It’s okay. All of it.”

Asahi’s brown eyes slowly widened. He looked young. His age, for once. Young and waiting for the movie set to fall down around him and reveal the camera pointing at his face. The teammates hiding in the bushes. To teach him a lesson about where to place his trust. 

Asahi’s bottom lip trembled. He parted them to speak, and Noya could almost hear the strained nature of the words to come.

He suddenly pointed a finger at Asahi’s face, needing to drive one point home before Asahi showered him in disbelieving, cautious gratitude.

“Just don’t do it again!” he said firmly. “If you need me to shut up or if you see something on my lips that needs to be removed or if you need to resuscitate me, use your words! Well, not for that last one. If I’m drowning please do try and rescue me. Thank you.”

Asahi swallowed his words with an audible click of his teeth. The tension wires around his shoulders were cut again, and he slumped in on himself, grabbing for his mostly-empty mug. He toyed with it for a moment, large palms smoothing over the porcelain surface. Noya lowered his hand, waiting for Asahi to recover. He didn’t have to wait long.

Asahi lifted his head, slightly, a practiced, polite smile back in place. “Thanks for getting this for me,” he said quietly. “…You’re always too nice. You and Suga.”

“You think I’m nice?” Noya said in mild surprise. “…Really? I did just sort of… yell at you.”

“Well y-yeah,” Asahi stammered, quickly setting his mug down before he upset the liquid. “You yell a lot and are really terrifying but – it’s not to be mean. That’s just the um. How did Suga put it…” He furrowed his brow. “It’s your method of encouraging me. You’re really kind to Hinata because you know he needs a big brother sort of support. And with Tanaka you’re – well, um…” He looked away for a moment, something in his expression darkening. “…You get along with him really well. You don’t need a strategy there.”

Noya stared at Asahi, not understanding why Asahi’s Fight expression was showing up now of all times. Weird. Mildly interesting.

“...Do you not like Tanaka?” he asked, not sure what else it could be.

Asahi started and gave Noya a curious look before he shook his head.

“No, I – that is to say yes, I like him,” he said awkwardly. “He’s… very different from me though. More like you and Hinata.”

“We do have our similarities,” Noya agreed, tilting his head to the side. “You just look kind of pissed –…er, irritated. Your face is all scrunchy.” He pointed to the offending area right between Asahi’s brows. Asahi’s eyes went a bit crossed trying to follow his finger.

“I do? I – oh. I don’t know,” he mumbled, quickly draining the rest of his hot chocolate. The sandwich he’d ordered was entirely untouched and looked to stay that way. “...I’m a bit jealous, I guess. That he gets along with you so easily. G-Gets along with everyone, I mean. He’s so well-liked.”

“People like you too, you know,” Noya said, raising an eyebrow. “Hinata thinks you’re really cool. And I heard Kageyama saying that he wishes he could set to you better to bring out your potential.”

“They just like me because I have the whole… ‘ace’ title,” Asahi mumbled, still staring at his mug.

“Probably,” Noya agreed. “But it’s a title you earned, you know. It wasn’t just handed to you.”

“It sort of was, though,” said Asahi immediately. “I was just the tallest and the biggest after our upperclassmen left… I didn’t necessarily want it. It just kind of… fell into my lap…”

Noya bit back another burst of irritation. 

“Do you really think Daichi would have kept calling you our team’s ace if you didn’t have the skills to back it up?” he said sharply. “Asahi, you’re being ridiculous.”

Asahi visibly flinched, his eyes focused on the table. He didn’t say anything for a long time, but did lift his head to give the waitress a small smile when she brought by the check. Her whole face turned red and when she left she immediately latched onto another waitress and started talking quietly with her. Noya craned his neck, trying to lip-read from across the room, but the girls were soon called into the back and he gave up.

He reached for his wallet but Asahi held up a hand, stopping him.

“It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“Asahi—” Noya started to protest, but Asahi shook his head.

“It’s the least I can do after… after you listened to me,” he said quietly, placing several bills inside the book. He set it aside and the waitress came by quickly (almost suspiciously so) to pick it up. Noya let out a little huff and sat back, not sure how he felt about being in Asahi’s debt.

“...Thank you,” he finally mumbled, remembering his manners at the last minute. “For treating me.”

“It’s no problem.”

Asahi turned his head to stare out the window, a pensive, melancholic look on his face. It was still raining, but not nearly as hard as it had been. Noya propped his chin in his hands, watching Asahi in silence. The waitress brought back Asahi’s change, but he made no move to take it. He looked very, very far away.

Noya gave him another minute and then gently tapped his foot against Asahi’s. For once the taller boy didn’t jump. He turned his head slightly, giving Noya a questioning look.

Noya nodded towards the end of the table.

“Check’s back.”

“Oh.”

Asahi took the few bills and coins, his large fingers carefully working the delicate zipper on his wallet. As though afraid he might rip it out of its seams. On impulse Noya suddenly grabbed Asahi’s hand, commanding, “Hold still.” Asahi tensed, a terrified expression grabbing hold of him.

“Nishinoya, what--”

Noya pressed his palm against Asahi’s, forcing the other boy to splay his fingers to match his own. The tips of his fingers only reached halfway up the second joint of Asahi’s. 

“You could probably crush my skull with just your hand,” he observed, wrinkling his nose. “...I could maybe manage a badger skull. Or a very tiny dog.”

“W-Why are you talking about skull crushing?” Asahi asked weakly.

“Science.”

“...Okay…”

Asahi fell obediently still, finally. Noya flexed his fingers, pleased when Asahi’s didn’t immediately cave for him. He’d heard Daichi the other day commenting on Asahi’s hands. That they were ‘buffonishly large.’ They seemed pretty normal to Noya. Just skull-crushing size, nothing more. Lots of people could crush skulls, probably. He noticed a few weird calluses on the tips of Asahi’s fingers. He prodded one.

“What’s this from? You’re not a setter.”

“I play piano. Sort of,” Asahi said, his words sounding almost like an apology.

“How do you ‘sort of’ play piano?”

“… I’m not very good. I haven’t practiced in a long time…”

“Oh. But you still know how. Why wouldn’t you just say play?”

Asahi visibly deflated.

“...I-I will next time, I guess. Sorry.”

“Good. And there’s no need to apologize. It was just a question.”

“Sor – okay. Sorr– ah. Dammit.”

Noya burst into laughter and gave Asahi an exasperated grin.

“Oh geez. That’s kind of pathetic, Asahi.” He released Asahi’s hand, shaking out his own to get the little pin pricks in his skin to stop. Asahi clutched his hand to his chest, but there was a little smile on his face.

“Is it wrong that I feel the need to apologize again?’

“Absolutely twisted,” Noya agreed, stretching. He let out a little breath and then pushed himself to his feet. Right. He had his answers, that brought an end to The Plan. Kind of a pathetic schlump of an end rather than an interesting, explosive one, but still an end. Asahi didn’t like him, the kiss was a fluke. Asahi was probably gay but that was just another thing to add to the list of what he was. The list of Things That Only Concerned Asahi.

What a fucking relief.

Noya frowned as his chest tightened again.

What a fucking relief, he made himself repeat, irritated when the words just made his chest hurt again.

Whatever. Something to think about later.

He clapped his hands together and stared expectantly at Asahi.

“So! Where are we off to now?”

Asahi paused in the middle of trying to extract himself from the booth. He gave Noya a bemused look.

“Where – I… I don’t know?” he said hesitantly. “I mean, you… you want to do something… else? With me?”

“...Yes,” Noya said slowly. “Asahi that whole lunch took like twenty five minutes. You didn’t even eat anything. That is a sad hangout.”

“...Oh.”

Asahi ducked his head as he stood up, but Noya still caught a glimpse of the huge smile on his face before it was smothered underneath another anxious frown.

“I don’t know. What… what do you usually do?” 

“There’s a game center that I go to with Ennoshita, Tanaka, and Narita a lot. Kinoshita sometimes comes too if he doesn’t have cram school.”

“...Hamada Arcade, right?” Asahi said weakly.

“Yeah! Wait.” Noya narrowed his eyes, intrigued yet concerned. “How do you know that?”

“I used to go there too, but then I… I kept seeing you guys there,” Asahi mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “So I stopped.”

“…Why?” 

“…I didn’t… want you to feel like you had to invite me if you spotted me. I know how awful it can be to have someone try and fit in when they just… don’t,” Asahi said quietly, shuffling towards the exit. Noya followed after him, mulling that over.

“We might not have asked you, you know,” he finally pointed out. “What did you go there for?”

“I, um… I like fighting games, actually,” Asahi said quietly, his face red. “And some rhythm games but… those tend to draw too much attention.”

“…Asahi, you like fighting games?” Noya said slowly, his respect for the other boy skyrocketing. “What? How? When?”

“I—s-since junior high? Or so?” Asahi stammered, obviously caught off guard. “Everyone on the team would go after practice to play them. I wasn’t any good at first but… I liked memorizing the combinations for special attacks and things. I… it’s probably going to sound like bragging but I have a knack for retaining useless information.”

“In what possible realm is that bragging?” Noya’s eyes lit up though and he moved a hair closer to Asahi. “So like… Tekken? You can completely thrash people?”

“Thrash – I don’t know,” Asahi mumbled, ducking his head. “…I used to –… the guys on my old team encouraged me to go to tournaments and things but… all of the guys there were… kind of. Like me. It wasn’t very fun just sitting there in awkward silence…”

“Huh… I would’ve thought you’d like that. Not feeling pressured to speak and things like that,” Noya mused, nudging open the door to the restaurant with his foot. Asahi shook his head, a few strands of hair slipping out of his bun. “No. God… no, it. It was so awkward.” He wrinkled his nose. “And a bit… smelly. Sometimes.”

Noya snickered and elbowed Asahi in the ribs. Lightly. The guy still crumpled and made a little wheezing noise of surprise. “That’s almost mean, Asahi. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I was just being honest!” Asahi said, his tone refreshingly defensive. “It was a depressing place! It made me feel like… like all they did was play those games while I had other hobbies. They’d get really angry when I won, too, and… and they’d mutter things about me.”

“Mutter things?” Noya asked, hopping down the stairs to the main level of the station. The crowd had thinned out considerably – probably between trains. He headed towards the exit they’d met at, pleased when he noticed that the rain had mostly let up. Asahi remained quiet until they left the station, and finally Noya tilted his head back to glance up at the boy. Asahi’s whole face was red.

“…Mutter things?” Noya prompted again, fighting back a laugh when Asahi’s complexion went from the light crimson of mild chagrin to the full-blown magenta of abject humiliation. He pressed a large hand against his face and mumbled something. Noya took a little step closer.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“I said – they’d… complain about losing to a… a ‘p-pretty boy,’” Asahi mumbled, his voice a delicate wheeze.

Noya almost fell over he started laughing so hard. He finally had to grab onto a tree to steady himself, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Asahi came to a stop a few feet away and stared down at him, mildly annoyed.

“…I didn’t think it was that funny.”

“Asahi – Asahi it’s hilarious,” Noya wheezed. “P-Pretty boy?! They seriously called you that?! Are you sure it wasn’t just… I don’t know, one guy being weird?”

Asahi fell awkwardly silent for a moment and then mumbled, “It… it became my nickname. For one of the tournaments.”

Noya let out a howl of laughter, hitting his hand against his knee as he struggled to get himself under control. Why was it funny – why was it so funny that a group of nerds three or four years ago had called Asahi ‘pretty’? He knew that if Ryū were there he’d be pointing out that no one else on this planet would be laughing themselves into a coma over something so inane, but maybe it was the stress or the relief of stress or the fact that Asahi had trusted him with so much heavy stuff that was breaking him mentally.

Or maybe it was just really, really fucking funny.

Noya sucked in a deep breath to calm down and slowly pushed himself up. He wiped tears from his eyes and gave Asahi a little grin.

“Sorry. I-I’m all. B-Better,” he said, his voice catching as laughter threatened to take him over again.

“…I can tell you’re just a light breeze away from combusting again,” Asahi pointed out, but his eyes had lost their harried look and he was carrying himself more easily. He cleared his throat and then said awkwardly, “If it helps, I didn’t have the beard or the long hair back in junior high. O-Obviously. And I was about fifteen centimeters shorter.”

“Wh—so you were only 170 or so?” Noya blurted out.

Asahi nodded, starting to walk again towards the shopping arcade. “Yeah. I was still on the taller side of my grade, but I didn’t really start growing until my last year of junior high. Then I sort of… shot up.” He winced. “It was awful. My joints hurt constantly… I ate so, so much. Our food budget was astronomical.”

“Huh. It makes your joints hurt?” Noya asked curiously, taking longer strides to keep up with Asahi, who seemed to have forgotten that he needed to walk like a normal human being and not a rampaging titan.

“They ache,” Asahi explained, glancing down. When he didn’t immediately spot Noya he stopped in his tracks, looking around in all directions before he finally thought to look over his shoulder. Noya came to a stop as well, staring questioningly up at Asahi.

“Yes hello,” he said, flicking Asahi’s arm. “I didn’t leave. You just walk fast.” He snorted quietly. “How could I have disappeared after asking you a question two seconds ago? Did you think you hallucinated me talking?”

“I—it’s. Always possible,” Asahi said, his eyes darting around enough to make Noya wonder if maybe ‘possible’ in this case meant ‘I do that all the time please don’t think I’m insane.’

“…I don’t think you’re insane,” he said, just to test the waters. “You’re probably just lonely. I watched a show about a woman who thought her house was haunted but it turned out she was just missing her dead cat.”

“…Oh. I. Thank you?” Asahi said, a nervous smile on his face. He cleared his throat and started walking again, his steps much smaller. “…Sometimes… when I have trouble sleeping, I think I hear people calling my name or… saying it, I guess. Talking about me.” He rubbed his bicep, his eyes fixed on the brick-lined walkway under their feet. “…I have trouble sleeping a lot. Actually. When… when I took a break from the team… one of the reasons we fought – I hadn’t slept. In a while, and… ah. Sorry. This isn’t interesting.”

Noya trotted along next to Asahi, listening carefully and making a note of what stores had changed and what had stayed the same. The entry to the shopping arcade was lit up in its bright neon lights, the three stories of shops lining the central alley stretching up and up and up to the arched metal canopy above. The ceiling was glass, remarkably clean for its age, and even from such a removed point Noya could see the rivulets of water running down the curved glass. It made him feel like he was in an aquarium.

“It’s interesting,” he said, once he was sure Asahi was done talking. “Sort of. I don’t really have those sorts of problems. I usually end up passing out on top of a video game controller or my computer. Or more recently my textbooks because that way my mother thinks I’ve been studying.”

“O-Oh, you have a mother?” Asahi stammered, tripping over his words. He immediately paled. “Wait, no. That – that was a dumb—”

“A mom and a dad, yes. And two younger siblings,” Noya said, interrupting Asahi’s breakdown before it could gain steam. “Taka is seven and Suzu is nine. Well, Suzume is her real name but she hates it, so Suzu it is.”

“Suzu… like ‘bell’?”

“Like the first part of sparrow. And Taka’s character is the one for hawk.” Noya let out a loud sigh. “My siblings got such interesting names. The only good thing about my name is when I was little I only had to memorize the three strokes it takes to write ‘evening.’ My classmates were all jealous.”

“So you and your siblings all have single-character first names too.”

Noya gave Asahi a curious look. “’Too’?”

Asahi nodded, turning down a side street in the arcade towards the game center. “Well, you know my name. Just ‘morning sun.’ Then my brothers are Jun and Takeshi. Jun like ‘falcon,’ not ‘pure.’” His expression darkened a bit and he muttered, “Everyone makes that mistake at first until they meet him. Definitely not pure.”

Noya’s eyes flew wide open. “You have brothers?!”

Asahi nearly bowled over a group of middle school girls he started so badly.

“Y-Yes,” he stammered, recovering quicker than he had been (after apologizing to one traumatized pre-teen). “But they’re – they’re both older than me. By a lot. Jun is… he’s almost thirty. Takeshi is mid-twenties. Jun works in Tokyo with my dad. Same securities firm. Takeshi’s out east in Toyama. He’s a ranger at one of the parks out there.”

“Whoa, a park ranger?! And Toyama’s got some big mountains… That’s pretty cool.”

“Takeshi’s always been into nature,” Asahi said quietly. “He used to have a giant beetle collection, kept a praying mantis as a pet… those sorts of things.”

“He sounds kind of awesome. Too bad he lives far away.”

“…Yeah.”

Noya gave Asahi a questioning glance, not understanding his suddenly despondent tone. Asahi met his eyes for a second and gave him a tiny smile before pointing ahead. 

“Almost there.”

Noya’s eyes lit up when he heard the game center, the deafening noises of electronic beeping, drum games going nuts, some computerized girl singing at an ear-shattering pitch. Without thinking he grabbed Asahi’s sleeve, dragging him towards the arcade.

“I want to see you play Street Fighter,” he said, his tone booking no room for argument. “Online mode.”

“Online mo—Nishinoya, those guys are terrifying,” Asahi said weakly, his heels scuffing against the pavement as he passively resisted.

“I do not care.”

“Nishinoya…”

Noya stopped at the entrance to the game center, letting go of Asahi’s sleeve. He gave the taller boy a slightly disgusted look.

“It’s just a game, Asahi. Not even an important one.”

Asahi blinked his dark, Babmi-eyes, and then looked away. He rubbed his bicep again.

“…As opposed to an important one?”

“As opposed to an important one.”

Noya walked around Asahi and hit him in the back of the knee with his foot. Asahi stumbled forward into the arcade, catching himself against a console. He glanced over his shoulder at Noya, looking puzzled and shocked. It took Noya a moment to realize why. That had been a Ryū action. Not an Asahi one. 

“Ah… my bad – er. Sorry,” Noya said quickly, jogging to Asahi’s side. “Forgot you’re bigger than Ryū so you’d go down faster.”

“...It’s fine,” Asahi said quietly, in a voice that implied it definitely wasn’t fine. He pushed himself up and then let out a heavy breath. “Well if you’re serious about twisting my arm… the machines are up on the second floor.”

“I’m always very serious,” Noya said, that weird pressure in his chest returning as he watched Asahi walk towards the stairs. Not fine. Why wasn’t it fine?

He quickly caught up with Asahi, grabbing onto the slightly sticky handrail to hoist himself up.

“You don’t have to play if you really don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“…I’m sorry I hurt you?”

“I’m not hurt.”

Noya rolled his eyes and hopped a few steps ahead of Asahi, blocking his way. Asahi stared up at him, obviously confused.

“Nishinoya?”

“Do you not want to be here?” Noya demanded, planting one hand on either handrail so Asahi couldn’t get past him without knocking him over. Which, to be fair, wouldn’t take much of an effort for someone Asahi’s size. Asahi stared at him for a long moment and then said weakly, “N-No? I… I do. I’m nervous about playing… I don’t want to mess up, but…”

“Then say it’s fine and mean it,” Noya said firmly. “I’m – I’m not. Good at reading you.” He made a slight face, hating having to admit to such an obvious character flaw. “So I’ll believe what you tell me to a certain extent, but when it’s something that obvious – I don’t like it! Be honest with me, I’m bad at guessing! And I’m always just going to assume you’re gearing up to run away.”

Several people peered up at him from around Asahi. Noya glared at them and snapped, “Hold your horses, I’m almost done.” They immediately vanished. Asahi looked ready to leap over the side of the staircase, willing to risk the broken femurs, but suddenly he stopped. He let out a little breath and nodded, his expression smoothing out.

“…It wasn’t fine,” he said quietly. “Not because – I don’t mind you being a bit… rough.” His cheeks colored and he added hastily, “L-Like you are with the rest of the guys. I don’t mind if you hit me on the arm or push me forward as long as it’s… not to be mean. But don’t…” He hesitated, and Noya could see the courage leaving him. Noya lowered his arms, crossing them over his chest instead. Like one of those owls that un-puffed itself after it was done terrorizing another bird. Asahi tugged at his scarf for a bit and then let out a heavy sigh.

“Just don’t… treat me like Tanaka. Please,” he said quietly. “It makes me feel… like you wish you were with him instead and you’re just… making do.”

Noya frowned and then checked his watch.

“…Asahi, we’ve been hanging out for forty minutes and you’ve already developed a complex.”

“I didn’t say it was logical! When we’re playing – or during practice, you treat me… differently than everyone else. And it’s… it’s terrifying most of the time but it’s…” He stopped talking and stepped to the side to let the people behind him up. Noya did the same, and the two middle-school boys slunk up the stairs, averting their gazes. Noya glanced back down at Asahi, watching him tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“But it’s what?”

Asahi shrugged his broad shoulders, his eyes downcast.

“…But it makes me feel special,” he said quietly. “That I’m worth your attention.” He lifted his head and gave Noya a tired smile. “You’re a genius at the sport, Nishinoya. The fact that you put time and effort into trying to better me…” He let out a little breath. “…That might be one of the reasons I… uh.” He bit his lip and then shook his head. “Anyway, it… it’s hard to go from that to feeling like… to playing second, I guess. Which I know is selfish and I’m really sorry—”

Noya held up a hand to stop Asahi. He gave his insides a moment to calm down. That second heart had started beating again. Frantically. At the word ‘special.’

“Don’t treat you like Ryū,” he said firmly. “I can do that. In fact, I can do you one better.” He hopped down another step until he was on Asahi’s eye-level. It was weird. He never realized how big Asahi’s eyes were since he normally was staring up at them from a great distance.

Noya reached out and clapped his hand against Asahi’s shoulder. It felt like hitting a boulder. Asahi hid his muscles under the unnecessary sweater he wore over his uniform shirt, the oversized T-shirts he wore at training camp and in practice. It was easy to forget that he was a mountain of a person underneath the yards of fabric.

Noya nodded sharply, ignoring for the moment the unsettling feeling of a person moving under his touch. Shifting slightly.

“I’ll treat you like Asahi, and like no one else. Is that okay?”

Asahi flinched, and for a moment Noya thought he was going to topple backwards down the stairs. But he held onto the rail, and for a long, baited second, met Noya’s eyes. His lips finally curled up in a small, hopeful smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. The sounds of the arcade melted back into their machines, swallowed up so that Noya could hear Asahi’s deep, gentle voice.

“…You really are too kind to me, Nishinoya.” 

Asahi’s large hand reached out, resting comfortingly on Noya’s shoulder for a moment. His thumb moved, just a bit. Enough that it could have been an accident. Enough that it could have been intentional. Noya wasn’t sure which he wanted it to be. One was awkward, the other terrifying in that same way that his whole body felt fuzzy like an un-tuned radio, ready to explode into music or horrible talk show nonsense if given the slightest push in one direction or another. He didn’t know which it would be or why when Asahi gave his shoulder a little squeeze his knees trembled, why when Asahi pulled away he shivered, the sudden loss of warmth through the thin fabric of his T-shirt catching him off guard.

Or why Asahi clenched his hand a bit too tightly at his side, his cheeks flushed and a guilty look on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck and then met Noya’s eyes once more. Just Asahi again.

But when he smiled, somehow that was enough, still. Despite the Just.

“…So. Street Fighter.”

Noya blinked.

“…Huh?”

The sounds of the arcade came rushing back, jarring and horrible and drowning out all of the beautiful timbre that had been left suspended in the air. Asahi said something else but his voice was lost and Noya’s shoulder was cold and he wanted to be alone so he could sit and pick at the parasites that had wormed under his skin where Asahi had touched him. It took him a moment to get his bearings again and he scrambled up the steps, a bit afraid of Asahi but not wanting him more than an arm’s length away. He waited for him at the top of the stairs, scanning the second floor. There was an empty machine at the end and he headed towards it, pausing every few steps to let Asahi catch up.

“This one,” he said, pointing at it, and Asahi obediently stood in front of the consol. He cracked his knuckles, brow furrowing a bit as he stared at the screen.

“I’m never as good when I have people watching over my shoulder,” he mumbled, hesitantly slotting in a few 100 yen coins. “Just to let you know.”

“Excuses. I’m sure you’ll kick… something. A lot of somethings.”

Asahi laughed quietly. “I can’t promise anything…” he said, even as his fingers moved to press the selection buttons with unconscious, practiced ease. Completely unlike his calculated movements back at the restaurant. Noya watched him closely before remembering he was supposed to be paying attention to the screen. The server connected, and a few minutes later Noya had forgotten about the parasites gnawing at the Mr. Hyde cage in his head. Asahi was good. Insanely good. The sort of fighting style where he would almost die every single time, guarding and running away before suddenly the screen would flash and special effects zoomed and exploded everywhere and the other guy’s health was completely gone faster than Noya could process. His cheering and laughter eventually drew a crowd, and Asahi thankfully was concentrating too hard to notice. After fifteen minutes when he finally took a break as the server reconnected, he glanced up and let out a terrified gurgling noise when he realized how many people were there. It took nearly five minutes to calm him down enough to keep playing, and by that time most of the spectators had thankfully drifted away.

Asahi kept playing until his credits finally out, and then gently insisted they do something Noya could play. They ended up at one of the crane games, Noya hell-bent on getting one of those stupid llama or whatever stuffed animals that were so popular with his sister’s class. Her birthday was coming up, he informed Asahi as he popped another 500 yen coin in the machine, it would be the perfect present. Asahi just made a quiet noise in the back of his throat before he reached out and gently nudged the control just before Noya pressed the button to lower the crane arm. Noya let out a loud noise of protest that quickly turned into excited laughter when one of the crane arms pushed the alpaca off its perch and into the hole. Noya fished it out, waving away the game center attendant when they offered him a plastic bag to take it home in. Before he could even say thank you, Asahi was on his phone, reading a text. He glanced up a moment later, an apologetic look on his face.

“My mom wants me home for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Noya said in surprise. “What time is—” He caught a glimpse of the clock on Asahi’s phone. Panic immediately set in.

“Oh. Shit – shoot, my mother is going to kill me,” he said frantically, making a beeline for the exit. Asahi followed him, still taking one step for every two of his.

“Are – are you really okay with carrying that thing on the train?” he asked hesitantly.

“What, Alpaca?”

“Is that its name?”

“That’s what it is. And yeah why wouldn’t I be?”

“I—it’s… large. And fluffy,” Asahi mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. “…Forget it. I keep needing to remind myself that you don’t deal with shame the same way we normal people do.”

Noya made a little ‘hmm’ noise and studied the alpaca as he jogged towards the station. “Shame,” he repeated and then laughed. “Yeah. Guess I don’t really have a sensor for that.” He reached out to punch Asahi in the shoulder again, like he would Ryū, but at the last second thought better of it. Instead he lightly clapped him on the arm. “Explains why I didn’t mind hanging out with you all day. Nerd. I still can’t believe how good you were at that game!”

“Nerd… well.” Asahi let out a heavy sigh, but there was still a little smile on his face. “I’ve been called worse. By people even nerdier than me. …How dare they.”

Noya muffled his laughter against the alpaca’s fur, nearly running into an old woman crossing the street. Asahi tugged on his collar to keep him from colliding into more people and steered him towards the train station. He stopped at the gate, seemingly oblivious to the line of irascible passengers behind him wanting to get in.

“So my platform’s this way.”

Noya pointed in the opposite direction.

Asahi tapped his pass against the barrier and stepped through. Noya followed, but hesitated on the other side. He clutched the alpaca against his chest, staring up at Asahi and ignoring the people threatening to bowl him over as they walked towards the staircases that led to the platforms above. Asahi rubbed the back of his neck and then bowed slightly. Formally.

“Thank you for today. I… it. It was very enlightening and… helped me sort through some things.”

Noya blinked in surprise and then snorted.

“I’m pretty sure you just stole my lines there, Asahi,” he said, reaching out to lightly flick Asahi’s forehead since it was in reach. “But you’re welcome.” He winced as his phone in his pocket buzzed. He didn’t even need to look at it to know who it was from. 

“…I need to go,” he said aloud, partially to remind himself. Because it really… it would be so much better to just… stay here. Do today all over again. Not to change anything, just so he could make sure he retained everything he wanted. Make sure he wasn’t misremembering or coloring things in a weird light. 

But since that was impossible—

“Next weekend? Same time?”

Asahi’s eyes widened and then far, far too quickly he stammered, “S-Sure! Sure, next weekend too!”

“And the weekend after that?” Noya pressed, just to see what Asahi would do.

“Sure—y-yeah, I have exams, but—b-but I can make time.”

“And after that?”

“Y…yes…”

“And after that?”

Asahi opened his mouth and then paused, staring down at Noya.

“…You’re mocking me.”

Noya stuck out his tongue and then laughed. 

“Just a little,” he admitted, walking backwards towards his platform. “But I’m serious about next week! Still need to see you kick ass in Tekken!”

He thought he saw Asahi roll his eyes slightly, but it could have just been the weird lighting.

“You shouldn’t curse in front of your upperclassmen, Nishinoya!” he called out over the growing crowd.

“You shouldn’t chide your underclassmen in public, Asahi!” Noya called back, stumbling a bit as he hit his staircase. He saw Asahi laugh and say something else but then the crowd swallowed him up. Noya reluctantly turned and headed up the stairs to wait for his train. He rocked back and forth behind the blue line that marked where the doors would be, his toes curling against the bumpy concrete underneath his shoes. His phone vibrated again, and with a reluctant sigh he pulled it out and flipped it open. The first text was from his mother. It was loud and angry and he quickly responded with a contrite /heading home now/ and then flipped to the next one.

/I hope this isn’t creepy but I looked up your number when you had me hold your phone so you could. Punch. The machine. For whatever reason. I hope you don’t mind. –Asahi/

A moment later his phone buzzed again.

/It’s creepy. I’m really sorry. –Asahi/

Noya bit back a smile and quickly typed back a reply.

/yeah it is! it’s really creepy, asahi. thank you. i totally forgot to get your number. now i can bother you whenever you want, though. fair warning./

His phone fell silent for a long time, not buzzing again until he was on the train.

/Sorry. Train pulled in. And I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have texted you if I did. And you were serious about next week? Honestly? It’s hard to tell with you sometimes./

/yeah i was. i'm always serious, asahi, remember. and you sound so different in text. not as hesitant./

/Daichi yelled at me to stop putting ‘…’ in my texts so I broke the habit./

/oh captain my captain./

There came another pause and then a simple, /Nishonoya./

Noya burst out laughing, holding his phone so close to his face his nose was practically against the screen. 

/how is it that i could hear the tone you wanted to convey. how is it, asahi./

/Too much time with me today. Small doses is probably better. But really, Nishinoya, thank you. I think I might be able to tell more people. Later. If it ever becomes an issue./

Noya let out a little breath and closed his eyes. Telling someone else. For whatever reason he didn’t like that idea. It was something about Asahi that only he knew, something for him to keep secret. A way to protect Asahi and keep him from getting any more bruises in his voice.

/really it was nothing, asahi. thanks for answering my questions. i appreciate it. train's pulling in and i'm probably going to be yelled at the moment I set foot in my house so i'll talk to you later. my email’s the same as my phone one so feel free to send me a message there too if you want./

/Okay. See you tomorrow./

/tomorrow./

Noya snapped his phone shut as the train pulled into his station. He hugged the alpaca tighter against his chest, ignoring the few stares he got as he headed down the platform towards the exit. He pressed his face against its soft fur, closing his eyes for just a moment.

Maybe he wouldn’t give it to Suzu after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! I bet you thought I forgot about this! Well I did not. Obviously. I’m getting really excited to continue this. Because progressions! Oh yes. Several. Also writing this is making me miss living in Japan so much so sorry if I get really flowery with things it’s just my inner weeb scholar crying.

It took Noya nearly fifteen minutes to extract himself from his mother’s tired fury. She’d wanted to spend some time together as a family, she’d said, who knew when they’d all have time again. Noya had tried to curry favor by explaining that it had been a team bonding exercise of sorts and look how cute this alpaca was. She bought it, until Noya said that no the alpaca wasn’t for Suzu, yes he knew she’d been wanting one and that her birthday was soon, no he didn’t have another present in mind. She finally lost it and told him to get his butt in gear and study if he wasn’t going to be a sociable member of the family, and Noya slunk into his room with his tail between his legs.

He booted up his computer, setting the alpaca down in his lap to act like a chin rest. Unsurprisingly there were several emails from Ryū demanding that Noya tell him how it had gone the moment he got home.

Noya reluctantly opened his math textbook again, peeling apart the drool-glued pages while he waited for the IM client to sign in.

His computer began to ding frantically the moment it did.

/yo/  
/yo are you home yet/  
/noya/  
/noya why aren’t you responding/  
/you can’t still be out/  
/dude its been hours/  
/did you murder asahi/  
/oh god did he murder you/  
/that fucker/  
/i'm going to have to go all inigo montoya on his ass aren’t i/  
/seriously bro where are you/  
/bro/  
/broseph/  
/brosephina/  
/noya/  
/noya/

Noya watched the messages continue to flood in, wanting to see if Ryū came up with anything else amusing. When it became clear he was just going to keep repeating his name like an ineffective foghorn, he took pity on his friend and typed a response.

/just got back. ended up at the game center and you won’t believe it./

/the game center? like our game center? with asahi?! shit. he didn’t implode from overstimulation?/

/no. opposite. ryū, the guy’s a fucking genius at fighting games. seriously. i watched him just tear through these guys. it was like witnessing the second coming of a really violent, nerdy jesus./

There came a delayed pause.

/can i come next time? i feel like this might be my only chance to see a miracle in person./

Noya typed up his reply, but paused with his finger on the enter button. His shoulder was still cold.

Not like Ryū. 

Right.

He deleted the ‘yeah sure’ and typed up something else.

/maybe after things are settled a bit more. i sort of wanna keep this just between us for a while. hope that’s cool?/

/totally. so, uh, speaking of settled… you guys talk about that stuff?/

/yup/

/and?/

/and it’s private./

/were you born this cruel and withholding or did it require a special training camp/

/we just talked about asahi! and about the whole kiss in general. not about my shit./

/what? noya – why the hell not?! wasn't that the whole point?!/

/sort of… i guess. i dunno, i didn’t wanna talk about me. this time. maybe another time if it’s still an issue./

/ah man. you self-sacrificing idiot. but all right, all right. i'll back off. do you think he can help, at least? in the whole… generally figuring out how you. lean. or whatever./

Noya pursed his lips and stared at the computer screen. This felt… delicate. And he was really, really fucking bad at delicate.

/probably. i mean it seems like he’s closer to figuring stuff out about himself than i am. but i dunno. we'll see./

/…okay… well as long as he’s not planning on kissing any of the rest of us. no offense meant towards asahi but i don’t think i'd be into that. his face looks scratchy./

/it is. like i could feel his beard against my chin. and i don’t think he’d shaved. his skin was all stubbly./

/ghainrelawkgmc.ad/

Noya frowned.

/what the hell was that?/

It took Ryū a bit to respond in something that wasn’t a random mashing of letters.

/sorry. sorry, just. fuck. it just kinda hit me how weird it is. like. i dunno. didn't think about the… stubble or whatever. that’s. it’s kinda weird. sorry./

/…how’s it weird? asahi's got a beard. i thought the whole… gay thing wasn’t… that big of a deal./

/it isn’t. it’s not, i promise, but i mean it’s… just fucking bizarre. you're my best friend, asahi’s my teammate and suddenly you know what his stubble feels like. against your face. it’s just – like suddenly really real. or whatever. i'll get over it./

Noya hugged the alpaca to his chest a bit tighter, his gut twisting horribly.

/i didn’t think it was that weird./

/unpleasant?/

/just kinda scratchy i guess. but i think i'm kinda over analyzing that one thing. the kiss, i mean. happened once, probably won’t ever happen again. with asahi, i mean! fuck i'd better get a real first kiss at some point./

/what – oh shit SHIT AHAHA YOU LOSER YOUR FIRST KISS WAS WITH A GUY/

/RYŪ SHUT UP/

/IT’S LIKE ONE OF THOSE COMICS SAYAKO IN 2-B IS ALWAYS HIDING BEHIND HER HISTORY BOOK/

/STOP IT/

/BLUSHING FLOWER. IT WAS JUST A HARMLESS LITTLE EXPERIMENT, RIGHT/

/DON’T/

/LITTLE DID THE TWO OF THEM KNOW IT WOULD LEAD TO SO. MUCH. MORE./

/i'm done i'm fucking done with you you aren’t even worth capslocking over./

/what? oh come on baby don’t be like that./

/i'm officially putting this on the do-not-mock list. right next to jokes about casting me as an ewok. we clear?/

/yeah, yeah. you'd make a great ewok though, just saying./

/i know i would that isn’t the point./

Noya got to work on a few problems, letting Ryū talk to himself for a bit. When he finally glanced back up at his screen he was surprised to see only one more message.

/so you’re meeting again? promise me if you do you’ll at least try and get him to help you and not spend the entire time attempting to fix asahi? fairly sure he’s not broken. just kind of weird and squirrely./

Noya let out a little sigh, but after a bit reluctantly typed back, /yeah. promise./

/good. i gotta get some homework done or mom’s gonna fillet me. see you at practice tomorrow./

/see you/

Noya watched Ryū’s icon fade out and then reluctantly got back to his own homework. His mother eventually called him for dinner, and had calmed down to the point where afterwards they all watched a dumb program on TV about weird natural phenomenon in Hokkaido. Noya showed off the alpaca to his siblings (carefully leaving out the part where it had technically been won for him by the other guy) and Suzu loudly declared that she didn’t want one anyway so it was a good thing Noya was keeping that one because she wanted one in sea foam green not white, gross. Noya ended up using the alpaca as a pillow, out of convenience and because it was really soft, dammit.

And for the first time in years, instead of passing out the moment his head hit the pillow, he forced himself to stay awake, trying to put actual effort into picking through the collections of memories he’d hastily crammed into various spots in his head. Asahi’s intense look of concentration when he’d been playing. Fleeting glimpse of pride when the alpaca had toppled off of the shelf. How his eyes had lingered on a display of crepes as they’d passed a small kiosk, the cadence of his steps breaking down. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he was nervous. Carefully trimmed sideburns. What looked like it could have been a hole through his earlobe at one point. Or just a very tiny mole. 

The warmth of his hand when it had touched his shoulder.

Noya let out a slow breath and pressed his face against the alpaca’s fur. He thought he’d stored more things. Actual useful things. Not a mish-mash of unimportant details. Maybe his brain had been subconsciously looking for something in Asahi’s gestures. Appearance. A sign that would light up in neon and say this, this is it. This is how you can tell he likes guys, this is where he deviates. You don’t have this. You’re fine, everything’s fine no one’ll know, Ryū’ll forget.

Noya spent nearly an hour searching before he gave up. Something had to be there. Probably just needed more time to find it.

The next day at practice, Asahi was too sleep-deprived to talk to in any kind of coherent fashion. Practice itself was painfully normal. Ennoshita made a wisecrack about the lack of drama and Noya managed to bean him in the back of the head with a ball through some miracle of physics. Classes dragged on and on and on and Noya was thankful he’d even attempted the homework. He got the answer right when he was called on and the look of collective shock on everyone’s faces filled him with a sense of irritated pride. Jerks. Why’d they all look so happy for him.

He managed somehow to survive through the morning classes, but when the bell rang for lunch he sank in his seat, exhausted. He’d only gotten five hours of sleep. For Ryū that was average. He had no idea how his friend survived.

Speaking of which.

Noya tilted his head back to grin up at Ryū, lightly hitting him in the stomach.

“You looked cool in practice today, loser.”

“And as always you know how to charm me, Mr. Nishinoya.”

Ryū plopped down in Nakamura’s chair and set his lunchbox on Noya’s desk. Noya peered inside and let out a little whistle.

“You’re the only kid I know who gets sea urchin in his lunch.”

“You can have it. Shit tastes like earwax to me,” Ryū grumbled, pushing the yellow pieces towards Noya, who devoured them immediately.

“How d’you know what—”

“Haha, hilarious, smartass. It’s hyperbole.” Ryū bristled as Noya made a slight face. “An’ don’t look all shocked! I read, I know big words!”

“…It’s just that the other day you couldn’t read that newspaper article—”

“We can’t all be literary nerds like you, Noya. Some of us have better shit to do than sit around and memorize idioms.”

“It was the character for ‘trial,’ how d’you not know that? And if I’m a literary nerd then Kageyama’s a math whiz.”

Ryū opened his mouth a few times before snapping it shut and muttering, “So glad I’m not in modern Japanese class with you. It’s the only time you’re even moderately pretentious.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’m still failin’,” Noya said, picking through his own lunch and eating the carrots first. His dad had cut them into star shapes. More for Suzu’s benefit than his own. Still cool. “You know how my brain works.”

“Selective retention, yeah, I gotcha,” Ryū said with a little sigh. He propped his elbows on Noya’s desk and watched him eat for a moment, his eyes narrowed.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly.

Noya paused, a meatball halfway to his mouth.

“…Yeah?” he said slowly. “Yeah. Tired, but. Good. Elbow hurts. Tryin’ not to fracture it again but I think that’s a lost cause.”

“What about… y’know.” Ryū gestured vaguely towards Noya’s head. “Emotions or… whatever.”

“Those’re good too. I think,” Noya said slowly, propping his chin in his hand as he tried to give it some serious thought. He was pretty sure he’d blown several fuses the night before, so it was slow going. He finally nodded and resumed eating.

“Yup. Good.”

“Good – well… if you say so,” Ryū muttered, grabbing his bottle of soda and chugging half of it. He let out a loud belch that made one of Noya’s classmates roll her eyes and chuck a balled up piece of paper at him. He caught it and gave her a wink, which just made her mutter, ‘gross,’ and turn back to her friends with a disgusted look on her face. Ryū’s expression fell a bit, enough that it caught Noya’s attention. He watched his friend fiddle with the crumpled paper for a moment before he cautiously asked, “Are you okay?”

Ryū started, clutching the paper to his chest.

“What? Yeah – yeah, dude, don’t be dumb,” he said, punching Noya’s arm. “Just. I dunno. Restaurant stress, probably. You know how it is. Dad’s a fuckin’ moron, Mom’s a tyrant, Sister’s a basketcase. Normal.”

“…Okay,” Noya said slowly, rubbing his arm. “…’Cause your family’s not here but you went from okay to sad. Just pointin’ it out.”

“It’s fine, man, let it go,” Ryū muttered, tossing the paper into a trash can. It bounced against the rim and landed on the tile. Ryū sighed heavily, his expression falling even more. “I was right to quit basketball. Not my forte.”

“Nope,” Noya said, staring at the piece of paper. It lay there still on the floor until someone stepped on it, crushing it into a flat, uninteresting pancake. Making it dusty. Without really knowing why, Noya pushed himself up and scooped the thing up off the floor to set it in the trash can, whispering, “Two points,” to himself. He returned to his seat to find Ryū staring at him weirdly. He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“…Nothin’,” Ryū said after a moment. “Just. You’re a weird guy.”

Noya sipped at his water, thinking that over.

“Weird?”

“Yeah like – why’d you do that?”

“To score two points for you.”

“Even though it… I mean, I missed.”

“Rebounds count,” Noya said firmly. 

“Rebounds – oi…” Ryū laughed and leaned back in his chair, a ghost of his normal expression returning. “You’re way too short to be talkin’ rebounds—”

“What?! Say that again, you dickhole, I dare you!” Noya threatened, kicking Ryū’s shins under the table. Ryū burst into pained laughter, shoving himself away so he could tease Noya out of range. He fell silent when one of Noya’s classmates approached, a nervous look on his face.

“Yo, Nishinoya… there’s a third year askin’ for you.”

Noya leaned back in his chair to peer around his classmate. 

“For me?” he said in surprise.

Asahi was hovering around the door, half-hiding behind it as he peered into the classroom. He was all hunched in on himself, eyes darting nervously around.

Noya rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile.

“What a dork,” he murmured, sitting up to wave Asahi over. The third-year gave him a look of utter relief and picked his way through the classroom, avoiding people, desks, dust motes. Anything he could have come into contact with. He came to a stop in front of Nishinoya’s desk, a weak smile on his face.

“H-Hey.”

“Hello, Asahi,” Noya said politely, staring up at his giant of a teammate. The height difference was worse when he was sitting down. His neck was already starting to hurt. “Did you need something? And just to remind you, you’re not supposed to look nervous when you’re a third year visiting the second floor. It should be the opposite.” He watched his classmate scurry off to join another group of people, all five of whom were staring at Asahi and whispering amongst themselves.

“Oh, um… I-I’ll keep that in mind,” Asahi mumbled, holding something out. “But I actually came to see if you wanted th—” Noya gasped and immediately snatched the yakisoba bread out of Asahi’s hands before he could even finish speaking.

“Oh my god – oh my actual god, how did you get this?! They sell out immediately!” he said excitedly, staring up at Asahi in absolute awe. Fighting video games prowess and bread retention. Asahi was racking up points quickly.

Asahi rubbed the back of his neck, giving a little shrug. “It, um. I know it’s your favorite so I… may have. Left class just a bit early…”

Noya’s eyes widened in shock before he burst out laughing.

“Asahi you rebel. I can’t believe you,” he snickered, pulling back the cellophane. He paused before taking a bite and stared up at Asahi.

“…Are there any strings attached to this bread?”

“Wh – oh, no, No strings,” Asahi said quickly. “More like… an attempt to sever them?” He gave Noya a tired smile. “I still feel like I owe you a thousand of these. For what—for… listening to me. Not running away and… all of that.”

Noya lowered the bread, his cheeks growing a bit hot. Asahi looked so earnest, his broad shoulders thrown back. His hands had finally stopped trembling.

“Oh… you idiot,” Noya mumbled, biting down on his lip to keep from grinning like a weirdo. “I mean – you. Asahi. I told you it wasn’t anything. And you bought me lunch too, that’s… that’s like, three bread. Exactly three already.”

“…If you want to count it, we can, but unless my math is wrong that’s still nine hundred and ninety-six I owe you,” Asahi said, just a hint of teasing in his voice. Half teasing, half genuine concern. “And even for a bottomless pit like you, I’m not sure you’ll be able to consume that much before I graduate—”

“Okay, first of all, I’m still growing. Probably. And even if I’m not, how dare you,” Noya said defensively. “And second of all—”

“Ahem!”

The loud clearing of a throat made both Noya and Asahi freeze. Noya glanced over to see Ryū staring at him in amusement, one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest. Asahi looked as though he’d seen a ghost. His face was deathly pale.

“O-Oh… Tanaka,” he stammered, “I – er. You’ve… been there long?”

“Just a bit,” Ryū said evenly, giving Noya a look. “Should I leave, or…?”

“No! No, it’s fine,” Asahi said quickly, taking a little step away. “I just – wanted to give Nishinoya that for… for helping me with something the other day.”

“Helping you.”

“Y-Yes. Just… a, um. A project,” said Asahi weakly. “…For. …School.”

He seemed to realize the trap he’d dug for himself with that improbable scenario, and stood there awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat. “Well I… I’ll see you two in practice.”

“Yes! Looking forward to it,” Noya said cheerfully, waving to Asahi before he realized something. “Oh! Oh, Asahi, one thing!”

Asahi stopped backing up, his legs hitting a desk. Sounded painful.

Noya gestured to the bread. “Mind if I split this with Ryū?”

Asahi looked surprised for a moment before he shook his head, smiling absently. “No, of course not,” he said, his tone a bit thoughtful. “I should’ve figured – you can do what you want, Nishinoya. It’s yours.”

“Cool,” said Noya, ripping it in two and pushing Ryū’s half towards his friend. “We’ll see you in practice, Asahi.”

“R-Right. Practice. I, um… I’m looking forward to it.” Asahi gave them a tiny wave and then beat a hasty retreat. Which looked hilarious on someone his size. He nearly clotheslined a girl on his way out of the classroom and spent an agonizing fifteen seconds apologizing before slinking out into the hall.

Noya didn’t bother addressing all the stares he was getting. He dug into the bread, licking mayonnaise off his fingers and struggling to keep his noises to a minimum. He could feel Ryū staring at him, though, and after a moment he tore himself away from his bread.

“…What?” he asked slowly.

Ryū grinned at him. “Friends already? Friends with bread-ifits?”

“…I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” Noya resumed eating with gusto. “And we’re teammates. You better eat this before I do.” He edged Ryū’s half of the bread towards him again.

Ryū took it and crammed the whole thing in his mouth, groaning slightly. “Fuck. I forgot how good these are…” He licked his fingers clean, still regarding Noya curiously. “But teammates, huh. What’s the song the meerkat and warthog sing in that nature documentary? Pretty sure it wasn’t ‘Can You Feel the Sense of Sports-Based Camaraderie Tonight’.”

Noya raised an eyebrow.

“…Documentary?”

Ryū waved a dismissive hand.

“Y’know. The one about the lion coup.”

“…Right.”

Noya propped his chin in his hand and watched his friend resume eating his lunch before he said suddenly, “You’d be okay if I hung out with Asahi again this weekend, right? I know we wanted to finish that game but I already told him we would.”

“What? Yeah, sure, it’s cool,” Ryū said, not even glancing up from his lunchbox. “Like I said, I think you kids still have some stuff you should talk about. And my Playstation isn’t goin’ anywhere. Or it shouldn’t be, at least.”

“Awesome.” Noya grinned and patted Ryū’s head. “Thank you, Ryū-Ryū.”

“No!” Ryū snapped immediately, jerking backwards. “No, no no no, Noya, absolutely not, do not start that with me. My dad is on thin ice as it is. I don’t need to be reminded!”

Noya burst into laughter and for the rest of lunch continued to grill Ryū about his family affairs. It made his friend surly, but Noya could read him well enough to know he actually wanted to talk about it. He just needed a little push.

The second half of the day dragged horribly. Noya kept stealing glances at the gym through the windows, itching to get to practice. He wanted to play. He wanted to play so badly. Everything was fixed, in place, and now that Asahi was back it was all perfect. Asahi didn’t like him, not like that but it was okay, obviously, (preferred, he corrected himself) because Asahi had brought him bread, he was his teammate again, he’d smiled and talked to him and said he was looking forward to practice and Noya was going to hold him to that.

God he couldn’t wait.

The moment the bell rang he grabbed his bag and bolted to the third floor, ignoring the angry yells of his homeroom teacher. He came to a screeching halt in front of Asahi’s classroom and threw open the door.

“Asahi!”

Asahi jumped and clutched his bag to his chest.

“What?! Oh – Nishinoya. Don’t… don’t do that,” he said weakly. “You’ll give me a heart attack.”

“I am fairly sure a backfiring car would do the same, so I’m going to risk it,” Noya said cheerfully. “Club! Let’s go! Let’s go let’s go – you said you were looking forward to it, so look forward to it!”

“It’s just practice, Nishinoya.”

Noya stopped bouncing from foot to foot and narrowed his eyes.

“Asahi.”

“Oh. Geez – okay.” 

Asahi glanced around his class, checking to make sure no one was paying attention to him before he rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled, “I’m… looking forward to it. Sorry for my earlier unenthusiastic response.”

His class immediately let out a loud chorus of good-natured jeers and catcalls, teasing him about catering to an underclassman’s demands. Asahi quickly hightailed it out of his classroom and stuck by Noya’s side as they walked down the hallway, his face red. Noya had to bite his lip to keep from laughing and said diplomatically, “Your classmates have crazy good hearing. I promise I won’t try and intimidate you in front of them again.”

“You’re such a bully, Nishinoya” Asahi mumbled, and Noya had to check and make sure Asahi wasn’t actually upset. There was a little smile on his lips that said he wasn’t, so Noya relaxed. He patted Asahi’s shoulder, his hand tingling from the contact.

“It’s okay, Asahi. You can buy me ice cream after practice to compensate for subjecting me to such a hostile environment.”

“I—Isn’t that just making you more of a bully? Exhorting me for snack money?” Asahi said in exasperation, following Noya down the stairs at a slightly faster pace.

“Oh, it is, but I know you’ll do it anyway. You fed me at lunch and you know that’s like offering deli meat to a starving coyote. I’ll keep begging for more,” Noya said, coming to a halt on one of the landings. He glanced up at Asahi, regarding him silently for a moment. Asahi stared back down at him, tilting his head to the side. The third year seemed content to let the quiet linger for a while before cautiously venturing forth.

“…What is it, Nishinoya?”

Noya let the sound of his name disappear into the plaster walls without interrupting, the lilt one he recognized from last year. It was soft and guarded, from when they’d first met and Asahi wasn’t sure how to handle him. He’d recognized the something odd in Noya that didn’t manifest until their third game together. When Noya had finally lost his temper and snapped at Asahi to focus, to concentrate, why was he acting like he was afraid of the ball?! Asahi had stared at him with that same look of stunned confusion, Noya’s name spilling curiously from his lips as though he no longer recognized its owner.

Noya had said something else in his encouraging fury, some compact speech about victory and teamwork and Asahi’s shoulders had relaxed, just enough. His feet had left the court just a bit more; his swing cut through the air just a bit faster.

And they’d won.

Noya felt something in his chest unwind as the two halves of his life clicked softly together. As though that single exclamation on the court and the fading timbre of Asahi’s voice in the hallway were the same, vibrant utterance, with none of the darkness of the past month to blight it. Clarity and realness that came from being jerked back to the present after the haze of nostalgia. A present he could touch and hear. Impact. Warmth of sunlight filtering through fingerprint-smudged glass. Voices ricocheting off the lockers just ahead in the entryway. The scratchy feel of his uniform collar against his chin. The wonderful simplicity of breathing the same air as someone he felt he’d known for a very, very long time.

He looked up at Asahi again, unable to keep from grinning.

“…I’m really glad you’re back, Asahi.” 

He laughed and rubbed his neck as he started walking again, suddenly embarrassed. Too much impact, maybe, but he kept going. “I really did miss you. It’s crazy how different it feels. Like everything’s fallen into place again and I know where to put my feet when I walk instead of stumbling all over myself like an idiot. That’s all I’ve been, lately. Kind of a huge… colossal idiot.”

He paused when he realized Asahi was no longer following him, and stared curiously over his shoulder. Asahi was still on the landing, his bag clutched against his broad chest. He didn’t look happy. He looked a bit lost, actually, staring down the stairs as though they led somewhere completely foreign to him. Into Narnia, maybe. The Pure Land. Hades. Not to the rather dingy first floor of their school building.

Noya frowned and turned around completely. How was Asahi still somewhere else? Out of synch, somewhere Noya couldn’t quite reach.

“Asahi.”

The other boy lifted his head, regarding him with a solemn expression.

“…Just a few days ago you were so disgusted with me,” he said quietly. “How— I don’t understand how things are just… suddenly okay.”

Noya fell still, struggling to order his thoughts into words that could be processed by a brain not his own. “Because that was a few days ago,” he said finally. “Call it infantile or… what’s it, object impermanence. I don’t care. I hated being mean, I hated thinking about things I couldn’t control. I like right now, I like being here. The present is really all I’ve got, Asahi. It’s the only point of time I can do something about.” He took a little step up the stairs, frowning up at Asahi. “If you want to go back, you can. You can stay stuck, but… I don’t think I can. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“…Oh,” said Asahi, very softly. He picked nervously at a ragged cuticle, hissing softly when he drew blood. 

Noya waited for more of a response, and when he didn’t get one he reached out to gently tug on Asahi’s sleeve.

“Are you coming?”

Asahi pressed his thumb against the bleeding spot on his finger.

“…I might slip. Back to how I was… I mean,” he said quietly. “I’m not like you, Nishinoya. I can’t just let things go. I remember the bad things so much more easily. It’ll help now that you’re not… upset with me anymore, but I can’t just fix everything so fast. I don’t want to go back either, but I’m not made for that. Stepping out and just… moving on. What if I… if I fall or get angry or lose everyone’s trust again, I can’t just—”

Noya listened with as much patience as he could muster to Asahi’s bumbling speech, but when the other boy’s face began to turn a pale, noxious color, he’d had enough. Asahi was stuck again just from talking about it.

Without warning, Noya suddenly yanked on Asahi’s sleeve, tugging him forward. Asahi tumbled down the first two steps towards him, letting out a panicked noise. Noya quickly shoved a hand against the other boy’s chest, catching him before he fell too far. He made sure Asahi was steady on his feet again, and then let go of his sleeve.

“That’s all in your head, Asahi. You’ve made this circular track for your brain to run panicked circles around and unless you derail yourself you’re going to end up dizzy and probably nauseated and vomiting and alone,” he said firmly, tilting his head back to fix his ace with a serious expression. “You’ll move forward even if I have to drag you. It’s better than staying back there by yourself. And if you mess up and fall for real then we’ll brace you, just like that. Me and everyone else.” He hesitated and then pressed his thumb against Asahi’s, brushing away a drop of blood. Asahi stared at him, wide-eyed and a bit fearful, before mumbling a soft, “Thanks,” and pulling his hand away.

“Welcome.” Noya snorted, quickly rubbing his hand against his uniform pants. He turned and thudded down a few steps before glancing over his shoulder to grin up at Asahi. “We’re getting too good at this.”

Asahi gave Noya a questioning look, his hand clutching at his sweater just over his sternum. 

“Being candid with one another,” Noya explained in response to the silent inquiry. “But I like this too. It’s weird – it usually takes a big upheaval to get me to snap into seriousness. That kind of lucid calm. I get it on the court sometimes, I guess. The kind that lets kung-fu masters hit a fly out of the air like – BAM LIGHTNING SPEED or catch an arrow and you can just see and feel everything moving super slow and feel the change in air pressure or hear a moth landing on a blade of grass. But it happens a lot when I’m around you, for whatever reason. And I feel kind of cool. Like… I don’t know, I could rally a bunch of people to follow me into an epic, suicide space battle. That sort of somber heroics.”

Noya swallowed the rest of his near-frantic words. There hadn’t been enough of a filter on them. He knew when he got to be too much.

Asahi hesitated, something dark flashing in his eyes for a brief moment that made Noya think of peering over a boat at the surface of too-calm water. Waiting.

Whatever it was never breeched. The water rippled, but that was all.

Instead Asahi just shook his head and mumbled, “I hope you’re not implying I drive you to suicidal space battles. I can’t handle that level of emotional guilt.”

Noya blinked and then let out a burst of relieved laughter. He hopped down the last of the stairs, pleased when Asahi followed and didn’t give him grief about being ridiculous like Ryū would have. Had in the past. Not allowed to talk about samurai in his family’s restaurant, after all.

“No, not really! Not what I meant, but that’s okay. I’m not great at getting all of this –” he gestured vaguely to his head “—into words that other people can follow. It’s fine.”

“…You are that cool, though.”

Noya tilted his head back as he walked, fixing Asahi with a curious expression and letting his upperclassman grab his uniform to steer him through the doorway instead of into it. Asahi’s cheeks were dusted pink and he looked like he hated himself for saying anything.

“…Like a space captain,” he mumbled finally. “That cool.”

“Oh.” Noya covered his face with a hand, wheezing weakly. “No. No – ah, man, it sounds so pompous when someone else says it! I really shouldn’t be blurting out arrogant lines like that in front of an upperclassman. Even if it’s just you, Asahi…”

“Was the ‘just you’ really necessary…”

“No, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Noya insisted, hopping over to his locker and shoving his school shoes inside. “I meant in a… you’re different from how an upperclassman should be kind of way. You and Suga and Daichi all are, actually. Most upperclassmen are kind of strict. They don’t want to be close with anyone besides whoever is in their own grade.”

“Ah.” Asahi carefully placed his shoes inside his own locker and tugged on his outside shoes. “That is true, I suppose. I know at my junior high there was a bit of a gap.”

“What was your junior high like?” Noya asked as they headed to the gym. Asahi shrugged, the movement much more casual than his typical calculated ones. Whatever melancholy had taken hold of him had probably fallen down the stairs at the same time he had. Noya didn’t miss it.

“Typical, honestly,” said Asahi, frowning in remembrance. “Nothing to write home about, I don’t… think.” He worried his lip for a moment and then mumbled, “Other than the obvious difference that involved only me and… and my upperclassman.”

Noya’s stomach did that weird flipping thing again. He ignored it as best he could.

“Ah, right. That thing.” He pursed his lips in thought, not really too keen on prodding at that little suspicion he’d locked away in the back of his mind, but he was too curious not to ask. There were others around, though, so he’d have to be a bit delicate.

“…So besides him… have you, ah. Ever… gotten, er. Felt things? For another… person?”

Asahi let out a weak noise of embarrassment and shook his head. “Not… not really, not like that,” he mumbled, ducking his head. “…Although… god, do not tell anyone else this, but… S-Suga… maybe a… a little. At first… Although for whatever reason I don’t really count that.”

Noya felt his own cheeks go a bit red. Couldn’t exactly deny he knew what Asahi meant.

“Well… I think everyone is in love with Suga. At least a little bit,” said Noya finally. Seemed a reasonable, not-scary conclusion to draw. “He’s amazingly smart and kind but also kind of sadistic in a way. But for some reason it just makes you like him more.”

“Or we’re all masochists,” Asahi muttered, letting out a quiet snort. “…Although I think you have a point. Suga just… makes you feel very cared for and important. It’s a good thing he has no interest in becoming a dictator.”

“Dictator Sugawara,” Noya said solemnly, stepping up into the gym. “Our supreme overlord.”

Asahi looked like he was fighting back a smile.

“Mandatory fashion compliance includes perpetual cow-lick.”

“Pale blue windbreakers.”

“Boxers with ruined elastic you’re just too lazy to replace even when you start to make everyone else in the club room uncomfortable from how low they’re riding.”

Noya wrapped an arm around his ribs, starting to lose it.

“Inexplicably rolling up the pants of your practice sweats all the way up to your thighs and acting surprised when people tell you that it’s really weird.”

“Overpriced watches that you accidentally break and then blame your captain for.”

“Fashion mole.”

“Fashion m—Nishinoya!”

They both burst out laughing, Noya having to lean on Asahi just a bit to keep from falling over. Ennoshita and Kinoshita gave them a bizarre look before continuing with set-up, the rest of the team politely ignoring them.

“Glad to see you two getting along.”

Noya nearly toppled over when suddenly Asahi simply wasn’t there anymore. The third year had backed up immediately and was staring warily at Daichi, who in turn fixed them with a little smile.

“What were you saying about our Supreme Overlord?”

Noya picked himself up and returned the grin.

“That he’s a very kind and gracious one,” he said seriously. “With impeccable taste in undergarments.”

Daichi snorted quietly and said in a dry tone, “I don’t want to know how you’re so intimately acquainted with that part of his wardrobe. But Asahi, could you set up the flags? We’re starting here in a bit.”

Asahi nodded quickly and gave Noya a little smile before jogging over with Daichi towards the equipment room. Noya watched the two of them talk, a bit annoyed that he found Asahi’s flinching so hilarious. When he was a first year he’d thought it was annoying. Aces weren’t supposed to flinch, after all.

“Is my windbreaker really that bad?”

Noya started badly. He stared up at Suga, wondering when, exactly, the upperclassman had gotten there. Sneaky bastard.

“It—it’s slightly… dated,” Noya said diplomatically, relaxing when Suga just laughed and gave him a grin.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, Nishinoya, but I trust your fashion sense about as far as you could throw Asahi.”

“So miles, then,” said Noya, pleased when Suga laughed again. The older boy gestured for him to follow and led them to the side of the gym.

“You seem slightly less homicidal than you did on Saturday. Or Friday, Or since coming back at all, really, which is a fantastic improvement,” Suga said idly as he tugged his bag off and let it rest against the wall. He gave Noya a sunny smile, the sort that made it seem as though he could do or think no wrong. 

Insanely misleading.

“I promise I wasn’t planning on killing anyone,” Noya said firmly, giving Ryū a wave from across the court. “I was just frustrated.”

“Good word for dealing with Asahi,” Suga said, shrugging off his jacket. “I love the guy, but he makes me exasperated as hell a lot of the time.”

“I can see that,” Noya said as neutrally as possible, plopping down on the ground to tug on his gym shoes. He glanced up at the right time to catch Asahi looking at him, and he laughed and called out, “You’re going to drop the pole, Asahi!” He laughed harder when Asahi jumped so badly he almost did.

Suga sat down next to him and regarded him silently for a moment. Noya let him, focusing on his stretches until the third-year decided to speak again.

“Everything okay, Nishinoya?”

Noya froze, a bolt of fear lancing through him. For one, bitter moment, he thought Ryū might have told, or that Asahi had confided in Suga, before he got a hold of his paranoia. 

“I’m just glad to have the old Asahi back,” he said finally, figuring that was a nice way to tell the truth and avoid incriminating himself.

“The old Asahi?” Suga said in surprise. He let out a little hum of thought, stretching his legs out in front of him. He fell quiet, pale brown eyes tracking his fellow third year’s movements as Daichi and he talked, only one word in five actually audible from their place across the gym.

Suga finally pushed himself to his feet with a little sigh, scratching at his head.

“I don’t know, Nishinoya. I’m probably projecting, but if it were me and I’d had a fight like that…” He gave Noya another small grin, this one slightly guarded. “I don’t think I’d be the same person.”

Noya wasn’t sure he knew what Suga was talking about, but he said a polite, “You’re probably right,” and continued to stretch. Suga whistled lowly and then laughed.

“That’s the most cagey I’ve ever seen you! Hopefully not Asahi’s influence. He told me the two of you were going to hang out on Sunday. That go well?”

“He told—I mean. Y-Yes. I. Think,” Noya said haltingly, caught off guard. He didn’t know why. He’d told Ryū. It would make sense that Asahi would confide in his friends. At least Suga wasn’t a dick about things.

“Yeah, I was kind of a jerk to him about it,” Suga admitted, turning around to stretch against the wall. So much for that theory. “He was so nervous… it’s really hard to resist temptation and not just give him that extra little push into paranoia.”

“…He was really jumpy,” Noya said, glancing up at Suga out of the corner of his eye. The third year looked a bit guilty and gave Noya another smile.

“I didn’t think he’d take it to heart,” Suga admitted, offering Noya a hand, which he took. “I really shouldn’t tease him about you. It’s the one thing he can’t seem to shake. Which given your track record makes sense, I guess. I wouldn’t want someone making fun of my phobia.”

“Asahi has a phobia of me?!” Noya blurted out, a bit too loudly. Several of the first years looked their way, Yamaguchi’s inquisitive gaze lingering a bit too long for Noya’s liking. Suga had the decency to look embarrassed, and after a bit he nodded.

“Yeah – I mean, this is just me extrapolating,” he explained, scratching at his cheek. “There’s a lot of stuff that makes him flighty but whenever he so much as hears your name he starts to cower like a dog in a thunderstorm. Saturday night I was on the phone with him so long Daichi almost lost his temper for real. Which is a rarity and might I add quite the sight to behold.”

“Why wasn’t Asahi with you Saturday night?”

“Daichi and I do exam study work then. Asahi’s not planning on taking the exams this year so he’s… well he’s invited, obviously, but he declines to come. I guess is how I’ll put it.”

Noya clicked his tongue in mild irritation.

“He probably doesn’t think he can keep up.”

“Or he has better things to do than to listen to Daichi curse English to hell and back,” Suga said gently. “You really are strict with him, aren’t you.”

“No stricter than I’d be towards myself about certain things,” Noya protested, jogging across the gym as their captain waved them over.

“Considering your training regimen is practically Spartan, my point still stands.” Suga grinned and clapped Noya heavily on the back. “You’re good for him, though, so I won’t complain. Just be careful. Daichi’ll lose it if you two aren’t working together perfectly by the end of the week. He’s got high hopes this year.”

“I know,” Noya said, not needing the third year to remind him of the weight on all their shoulders. It was their last chance. He didn’t care how inane that sounded to outsiders. It was important to his upperclassmen, it was important to him. The kind of logic Noya relished. Simple and straightforward.

Daichi’s opening remarks were all about training camp. Noya forced himself to stand still and actually listen instead of thinking ahead five minutes to warm-ups. The promise of a revived grudge-match was more than enough fodder to get him and Ryū worked up into a fever pitch, to the point that Daichi yelled at them to start running and burn off energy.

Practice that day was frenzied. More so than usual. Everyone was in top form, sweat pouring unnoticed down their faces and into their eyes. Constantly communicating, the sort of primal connection they all felt when they were truly in sync with one another. At the end Ukai praised them as they all lay exhausted on the gym floor. Play like that, he said, and you might actually have a chance of winning.

Of course the moment practice ended, the fatigue set in. Noya nearly dropped his side of the pole as he helped Hinata and Kageyama drag it to the cart. The tiny first year was whining softly to Kageyama, who seemed hell-bent on ignoring every word, only muttering, “Ankles aren’t supposed to make that noise, I don’t think,” in response to whatever Hinata had said.

Daichi called out a general invite to head to the store and they all dragged their sorry asses out of the gym and down the hill. Noya recovered halfway down and resumed talking to Ryū about the last play.

“...a split second faster and I would’ve gotten it,” he said thoughtfully, hopping through the automatic doors of the convenience store. “Maybe I should add a couple dozen more dive-falls to my warm up…”

“I’m not sure your elbow could hold out for a dozen more,” Ryū said wearily, shuffling over to the steamed bun display and staring hungrily through the glass. Noya followed him, still mentally planning his modified workout.

“Nah, it’ll hold,” he said dismissively. “I’ve got this theory that –”

“Nishinoya.”

Noya perked up at the sound of his name and all but bounded across the store to where Asahi was standing in front of the ice cream display.

“Yes? Yes – are you treating me, Asahi?” he asked excitedly.

Asahi’s cheeks turned a light pink, but before he could say anything Suga appeared at his side.

“You’re treating me too, right, Asahi?”

“You owe us from Saturday. I told you if you went over an hour distracting Suga I’d remember it,” Daichi chimed in, grinning as he slugged Asahi in the chest. Asahi crumpled like a wet napkin.

“What – what else was I supposed to do? I had to talk to someone and you always just tell me ‘suck it up, Azumane,’ which is not my family motto, despite your constant insistence that it should be,” Asahi mumbled, rubbing his chest.

“It should be,” Daichi repeated decisively, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll get Suga to work it into the crest.”

“Done,” Suga said, an impish grin on his face. Asahi gave a very subtle roll of his eyes, jumping when Daichi punched him again.

Noya watched the back and forth silently, waiting for his upperclassmen to be finished being lost in each other’s company. It was grating on his nerves just a bit, which was odd. It never had before. The feeling of unease grew in his chest, like a balloon filled with mystery fluid, and he had to let it deflate before it burst. Somehow.

“You can call me.”

Like that. Maybe.

All three third-years immediately froze, Suga’s hand still clutching an ice-cream he’d shoved halfway down Asahi’s shirt. Asahi extracted himself and said quickly, “That’s okay, Nishinoya, really. Just ask Suga – I’m incredibly annoying when I get like that –”

“He’s incredibly annoying when he gets like that,” Suga repeated obligingly, and Asahi gave him a hurt look before continuing.

“—and I really wouldn’t want to burden you. You have enough on your plate already.”

“You have my number, Asahi,” Noya politely interrupted, giving the taller boy a pointed stare. “And the hedging isn’t necessary. I’m fairly sure I’ve seen you at your worst.”

“Brave soul,” Suga murmured mournfully.

“Braver than us all,” Daichi echoed, letting out a heavy sigh.

Asahi twisted his hands in his shirt, his brown eyes darting off to the side.

“But—”

Noya made a frustrated noise and pulled a marker out of his bag. He held out his hand.

“Hand, please.”

Asahi stared at Noya as though unsure they were speaking the same language before he timidly held out his hand. Noya grabbed it and then scrawled across Asahi’s broad palm “CALL NOYA WHEN ANXIOUS” in flashy calligraphy. It was the one remotely artistic thing he could do. He capped the marker and said firmly, “There. Now you have a formal offer.”

Suga whistled quietly, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you could do calligraphy, Nishinoya.”

“Oh I can’t do the real fancy stuff,” Noya said quickly. “In fact I’m not – I can’t even do this. I forget strokes sometimes or mix up character radicals—”

“I’m going to annoy you, Nishinoya,” Asahi interrupted, his voice tinged with a desperate hue. “I don’t think I can—”

“You won’t annoy me,” Noya said, not needing to think about it.

“I will, I always do when I get like that—”

“You won’t. Or you might. But you won’t, really.”

Asahi opened and closed his mouth, staring helplessly at Noya for a moment before glancing at Daichi. The other boy just shrugged and patted Asahi’s shoulder.

“You can’t argue with Nishinoya logic. Don’t you remember?”

“Exactly! Thank you, Captain,” said Noya with a little laugh. When Asahi still looked like he was ready to protest, Noya let out a sigh and moved to stand directly in front of Asahi. He tilted his head back to meet Asahi’s eyes, lightly nudging the other boy’s toe to get him to look at him.

“Asahi, which takes more effort: staying silent or speaking up?”

Asahi blinked slowly and then frowned.

“…For you, probably the former.”

“…Okay for normal people. For you, then.”

“…The latter…”

“So wouldn’t it follow that if I were worried you’d annoy me I’d just let Suga deal with you?”

“Oh, glad to know I get a starring role in this little exchange,” Suga said lightly, obviously fighting back a laugh as he watched Asahi try and stammer his way out of the conversation.

“W-Well, yeah, but—”

Noya let out an impatient grunt and took another step forward, tapping Asahi’s palm with his fingertip.

“Promise.”

Asahi wilted, cowed by Noya’s glare. As he should be.

“…You’re such a bully, Nishinoya,” he mumbled. But his fingers curled against the black ink on his palm, and when he turned his head his lips were smiling.

“And you’re buying me ice cream too. Right, Asahi?”

“How is this my life.”

Noya laughed at that and would have continued teasing Asahi but Hinata’s voice caught his attention.

“Noya! Which of these flavors is the best?”

“What are you bothering Nishinoya for, dumbass?” Kageyama hissed, just loud enough that everyone could hear him. Hinata gave his teammate an unimpressed look.

“’Cause it’s ice cream! That’s Noya’s thing!”

“All right, all right. No fightin’ you guys,” Noya said cheerfully, padding over to the freezer Kageyama was attempting to shove Hinata into. Noya gave Hinata a grace period to extract himself from the ice chest before he peered in. He scanned the contents with practiced ease and then let out a sigh.

“No good.”

He straightened up and gave Hinata an apologetic grin.

“Sorry, Shōyō. They’re out of soda flavor so…”

Hinata blinked his large eyes.

“But there’s so many others…” he said slowly.

“I don’t like to settle. I’m an all or nothin’ kinda guy,” Noya said cheerfully, reaching in to grab a pear flavored ice. “But here. I remember likin’ this one before I found my favorite.” 

Hinata stared at the ice cream as though it were the Holy Grail. He accepted it with a calm reverence that made Noya nearly lose it trying not to laugh.

“Noya… you’re so smart,” Hinata said solemnly.

Noya could feel his cheeks color, and he quickly scoffed to hide his embarrassment. It didn’t help that the third years had all fallen silent and were obviously listening to the conversation.

“What – because I’m picky about ice cream?”

“No – it, it’s the other thing!” Hinata said earnestly. “Not settling – even though you like this stuff so much if it’s not the best than you don’t want it. Even over something so… petty…” He stared up at Noya happily, and when Tsukishima muttered something about how Nishinoya’s value-system boiled down to Sesame Street ideology, Hinata just glared at him until he fell silent.

“W-Well I didn’t mean – I’m not tryin’ to be philosophical or anythin’,” Noya said quickly, his face turning redder. Damn Shōyō and his wide-eyed innocence. Noya wasn’t used to being the one encouraged. That was supposed to be his job and the moment the tables turned with anyone but a select number of people he went into a mode that was disquietly like panic. But the good kind. Happy panic.

Noya quickly cleared his throat and reached into the freezer, grabbing a milk ice. He shoved it against Kageyama’s chest and then declared, “I’m heading home! See everyone tomorrow!” He paused by Asahi just long enough to glance up at him and say hopefully, “Could I get a rain check on that extortion?”

“Well – you could, or, um…” Asahi stammered, fiddling with something behind his back. Daichi rolled his eyes and punched Asahi in the shoulder.

“Just give it to him you idiot.”

“Extortion, huh? A man after my own talents,” Suga said cheerfully, giving Noya a wink.

Noya tilted his head to the side, not really understanding, and stared up curiously at Asahi. After a long moment Asahi held out one of his large hands, his fingers curled around something. Noya recognized the logo before he could read the cheerfully-colored characters splashed across the packaging.

“Soda flavor—what?!” he said excitedly, peeling back Asahi’s fingers one at a time to pry the ice cream out.

“Ow,” Asahi mumbled half-heartedly, shaking out his hand. “I was going to give it to you…”

“He bolted over there the moment we entered the shop and started hunting around for the right one,” Suga said, a sly grin on his face. He elbowed Asahi none-too-gently in the side. “You must really want to stay on Nishinoya’s good side, huh?”

“Something like that,” Asahi said, rubbing his side and giving Suga a little glare before turning back to Noya. His lips quirked up in a smile, and he said softly, “You can still have a rain check if you want, Nishinoya. That one’s probably all melted now anyway.”

“I will take a thousand rain checks, Asahi, if it means you can secure the most popular flavor every day,” Noya said seriously, peeling back the wrapper. It was kind of melty and he had to work quickly to keep it from getting all over his fingers.

“That’s – that’s kind of a lot of pressure – …I suppose I could get in touch with the distributor…”

“Do it,” Noya said immediately, not bothering to hide his delight at the idea. “Asahi – Asahi go and terrorize them into giving you the recipe. Then you could just make it every day – the shortage would be solved!”

Asahi opened his mouth, but then paused, a thoughtful look on his face. Suga clutched his sides with silent laughter, finally wheezing out, “N-Nishinoya, d-don’t… he’s actually c-considering it…”

Daichi lightly patted Suga’s back, muttering, “You find the weirdest shit funny,” before he gave Noya a small smile.

“Good work today, Nishinoya. We’re counting on you.”

Noya saluted with his free hand, too busy devouring the last of the ice cream to respond properly. And really not… wanting to. If it were just him and Asahi he would have made more of an effort, but Asahi’s attention was divided and for whatever reason that was irritating enough that Noya wanted to stay with his ice cream. Daichi just gave him one of his ‘I’m slightly disappointed in you but too paternal to express it beyond a slight narrowing of the eyes’ looks before turning back to his fellow third years, joining Suga in tormenting Asahi, who was complaining that his hand had gotten cold from holding onto the ice cream for so long.

“You should have just given it to him earlier then, idiot.”

“The timing had to be right! Like – Suga, remember in first year when you asked Mayumi to – o-okay that’s a bad example – Suga don’t laugh!”

“I-I’m sorry – no, that was a horrible lie, I can’t stand behind it. I’m not sorry, you’re such a loser.”

“He means that affectionately, Asahi.”

“Then why’s he pointing at me like that?!”

“Tone, Asahi.”

“Yeah, tone, Asahi.”

“Suga—god, why am I friends with you guys!”

Noya half-heartedly eavesdropped on the third-year-banter as he headed over to Ryū. He mimed that he was going home, preoccupied with reading the joke on the ice cream stick. Another pun. He wasn’t so good at puns.

“Want me to walk with you for a bit?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Noya said absently, glancing over his shoulder. Asahi was still being cowed by the other third years, but after a bit he lifted his head and caught Noya’s gaze. He offered him a smile, one that Noya was starting to file away in his folders of Asahisms. Reluctance of parting. Something like that would make a good label. Definitely needed the kanji for ‘regret’ somewhere in there. None of Asahi’s smiles he’d seen yet were without the emotion. It showed in his eyes, really. They were too expressive for someone who looked as badass as Asahi had cultivated himself to be. Or maybe it was just that—

Noya pitched forward a bit when Ryū clapped him on the back. He raised an eyebrow at his friend, a bit irritated to be snapped out of a thought. They were hard to come by sometimes. Ryū just grinned.

“Three seconds.”

“One higher than you can usually count,” Noya praised, pushing his friend back. “Are you just showin’ off?”

“Threeee seconds,” Ryū drawled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Asahi really that interestin’?”

“Wh—oh shit.”

Noya quickly turned away and headed out of the store, waving to Hinata when the first year said goodbye. He could tell his face was red. His cheeks little coal stoves, could make roasted sweet potatoes or grill an entire fucking mackerel, just slap him in the face with it a few times and presto. The gravel behind him crunched as Ryū jogged to catch up.

“I know you said you’re good but I’m headin’ out anyway.”

“It’s fine,” Noya muttered, his fingers clenching at his bag. Ryū fell awkwardly quiet for a moment and then ventured, “You mad?”

“No,” Noya said immediately, lifting his head to give Ryū a reassuring grin. “I don’t get mad at you.”

“What the fuck – you little liar, you tried to murder me with a Playstation controller like two weeks ago,” Ryū laughed, but his shoulders relaxed and his steps evened out, pulled closer to Noya’s.

“Oh, well, Gamer Noya doesn’t count. That guy’s a maniac,” Noya said solemnly, pausing in front of the sign that pointed towards the station. Ryū stopped as well, waggling his eyebrows.

“So am I allowed to torment you, then?” he asked hopefully. “’Cause man, you’re lucky it’s just me that’s noticin’ now and not, like, Tsukishima or somethin’. You know he’d be a dick about it, not understandin’ the situation.”

“…What are you talkin’ about?”

“You starin’ at Asahi. I mean, I know it’s ‘cause you’ve got stuff you’re still mullin’ over or whatever, but… y’know.” Ryū rubbed his head, frowning suddenly. “Some of the other guys might… get the wrong idea, or whatever. Which hell, I dunno if it is the wrong idea, but they might get it, an’ unfortunately for this poor, doomed earth of ours, not everyone’s as chill and complacent with everythin’ as me, so…” He quirked a grin at Noya. “Just tryin’ to look out for you. In a freakish role reversal.”

Noya blinked slowly, understanding setting in.

“…Oh,” he said very slowly. Right. The world had more people in it than just him and Asahi when they were talking. Somewhere between watching Asahi play Street Fighter and five seconds ago he’d forgotten that fundamental fact of being a people. That there were more of them, and that they’d be watching. That explained his slight irritation towards Daichi and Suga. Some part of his brain had wanted them not to be there when Asahi had been talking. Which was such a dick move, erasing someone else’s existence just because they were incongruities with how your subconscious deemed the moment should be.

Noya made a disgusted noise and hit himself in the forehead.

“I’m thinkin’ too much lately. It’s warpin’ my brain.”

“At least the muscle’s bein’ put to some use now,” Ryū teased, walking backwards towards the station. “Oh – shit, speakin’ of which, you get our English homework?”

“Miraculously. I’ll send it to you when I get home,” Noya said, still distracted.

“Cool. See you tomorrow mornin’!”

“See you.”

Noya stared at the station sign, listening to Ryū whistled as he jogged away. Three seconds, huh. Didn’t seem like much, but from experience he could feel the weight of that time. A lot could be missed in three seconds.

With a little groan he forced his legs to move, heading for home. It was already dark; bugs were swarming around the street lamps like living clouds. They made awful popping noises when they rammed too hard into the glass. Noya cut down an unlit side street so he wouldn’t have to listen to them kill themselves trying to get to the light.

When he got home there was a plate of leftovers with plastic wrap over it on the table. Parents were going to be late, then. He popped the plate in the microwave and ate as fast he could before hopping into the shower. He plunked down on the seat and was about to turn the water on when he noticed a blue stain on the inside of his index finger. Sticky.

He rubbed his thumb over the spot, and then on impulse licked the little stripe of sugar.

You can still have a rain check if you want, Nishinoya.

Noya jerked backwards, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. What the hell…

With a muffled curse he grabbed a washcloth and wiped his hands clean before starting up the water. Just a few degrees colder than usual.

Clean but mentally on edge, Noya snuck into his room, hearing his mother puttering around the kitchen. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk, and thankfully she didn’t seem to be either since she ignored him when he stubbed his toe trying to get his door open. Once inside he booted up his computer and sent Ryū the homework before trying to focus on his own.

That lasted all of an hour.

At some point he’d dragged himself over to his futon and had gotten under the covers. Noya blinked slowly, staring out into his darkened room, disoriented. Something had woken him. Not that hard to do, considering what a light sleeper he could be.

A little noise caught his ear, and he fished around in his bag until he located the sound. His phone was buzzing. At two in the morning.

Noya stared at the screen. The three characters of Asahi’s name cast a pallid light against his fingers.

Two in the morning. Not a time he was overly familiar with.

Noya slid his finger across the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. His chest tightened painfully and he gave his sternum a firm punch. Probably just tense from being woken up.

“Nishinoya here.”

The other end of the line was dead silent. Not even any creepy breathing.

Noya frowned.

“Asahi, did you die?”

“…No. Sorry.”

“Are you apologizing for being alive?”

“N-No, I—I don’t. Know. Maybe.”

“Please don’t apologize for that, Asahi. It’s not needed.”

“…Okay. Sor—dammit. Okay. I won’t.”

Noya lay back down on the futon and put the phone on speaker, setting it on the pillow next to his head. He watched the faceless contact icon, wishing he’d thought to program Asahi’s picture in. It was normally the first thing he did when he added a number. He liked seeing faces.

“It’s two in the morning,” he pointed out, when Asahi didn’t seem capable of saying anything. There came a bit of rustling and then Asahi’s deep , soft voice.

“I know. You said—whatever marker you used on my hand didn’t come off. And I saw it and… I don’t know. Your number came up instead of Suga’s. Were you asleep? You sound exhausted. I’m… fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

Noya’s eyes widened and he stared at his phone in surprise. He’d never heard Asahi curse before. Somehow that one word made all the black corners of his room creep in closer towards his phone. Like the bugs drawn to the street lights. Drawn to Asahi’s voice and that desperate, wretched word. 

“…I think you should have. Were right to,” Noya amended, rolling over on his side and taking his phone in his hand. He tugged the blankets over himself, hiding his phone from the dark. He settled down, realizing too late that Asahi had been talking while he’d been moving around.

“…¬ —you tomorrow. Sorry to bother you.”

“Wait— don’t hang up!” Noya ordered, wincing the moment the words had left his mouth. He rubbed at his scratchy eyes, trying to force himself more into wakefulness so he wouldn’t slip up again. “Please, I mean. It’s okay, Asahi. You’re not bothering me. Did you need something?”

Asahi’s voice fell mute again, and it took Noya a moment to register the noise on the other end of the line. Deep, terrified sighs. The sorts tertiary characters made in zombie films when they realized they’d been bitten.

“I’m – it’s going to sound so stupid,” Asahi said, his voice barely carrying through the speaker. “I’m… um, I’m… having trouble… sleeping.”

“Like tonight?”

“Like… most of my life since age eleven. I guess. Tonight’s just… bad.”

“And that’s why you look so tired at morning practice?”

“Uh… I. I guess. One of the reasons…”

Noya frowned, not really understanding.

“Have you tried, uh… tea? Or a warm bath? Sometimes I play this one video game about a defense lawyer. The language is kinda complicated so it sends me to sleep.”

“It’s not… it isn’t really a physical thing,” Asahi said quietly. “It’s more like… I get one. Little thought. That leads to a bigger thought. And soon it’s gone from… from wondering ‘should take the train or walk tomorrow’ to ‘what’s the point of walking every step is just one closer to the grave’ and then I think about my parents and my brothers and… and e-everyone, not… not being able to see them anymore, not being anything or anyone what happens? What – is that just it, do I stop what is stopping like?! What’s it like to simply not be anymore, to not even be in a coma or dreaming but just stopped totally?! I-I can’t – I can’t stand thinking about it, I hate not knowing but there’s only one way to know and obviously it’s not one you can p-publish a research paper on after investigating and god I hate this I hate my fucking brain it won’t – it doesn’t turn off! Ever! It won’t even let me go to sleep – god I just… want to sleep…”

Noya silently listened to Asahi’s trembling voice, kicking away the little bits of dark that tried to sneak under the blanket.

“So you’re scared of dying,” he surmised, blinking to try and get the phone to focus in his vision again. “Is that it? I—sorry, Asahi, I’m not good with… philosophy or… theology.”

He heard Asahi let out a shuddering breath and then say quietly, “Y-yeah. I… I guess that’s it. Which is such… it’s such a clichéd fear to have.”

“I’m pretty sure that fear is why people invented religion, so even if it’s cliché or whatever I don’t think that means it isn’t important. Don’t be mean to yourself.”

“…Okay.”

Noya frowned.

“Promise me. Say ‘my fears aren’t stupid, Nishinoya’.”

Asahi laughed weakly, but after a moment replied in a dutiful, if unenthusiastic, voice, “My fears aren’t stupid, Nishinoya.”

“Good. Do you feel better?”

There came a long pause.

“…No. Not… not really. Sorry. I’ll try harder.”

Noya furrowed his brow, not sure what the problem was. 

“Well… okay,” he said slowly. “But Asahi, that’s… what you’re worried about is the only guaranteed thing that’ll happen to you. There’s no point in side-eyeing it your whole life. I guess if I were you I’d stop looking at it out of the corner of my eye or like… prodding at it. You’re just pissing it off. Take a second and just face it. ‘Cause you’re right, you can’t know. It sucks but that’s just how it is. So face it for a bit, look at it properly and then… then we’ll work on making your life great, okay? So great that… I dunno. You’ll pass out from happiness the moment your head hits the pillow or something. Or I guess to start small you’ll only torment yourself with bad thoughts for an hour instead of for the whole night. And eventually you won’t even have to worry about it until it’s happened. Like… like an exam, I guess. And if it turns out there’s only an F at the end, well then at least you didn’t waste your life dreading the exam and studying, you know? And if there’s an A like some people think there’ll be or a C or even a weird squiggle shape that no one’s invented yet, then you’ve spent your time extra wisely.”

Noya fell silent, feeling a bit guilty that he was preaching to his upperclassman. The silence stretched on, long enough that it started to make him a bit nervous. He licked his lips.

“Asahi? Are you with me?”

There came a bit more rustling, and then Asahi’s voice again. Thicker. Nasally like a kid with a bad cold.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m here. I think.”

“You think?”

“I tried to… that first part. Facing or… what you said.” Asahi laughed, the noise so bitter it made Noya’s tongue itch. “Turns out I’m not you, Nishinoya. What a surprise. Just the thought made me go into a little panic and – and you don’t need to hear all the boring details. I’m not… really emotionally okay with stuff like that at two in the morning…”

“Then just try the second part for now,” Noya said immediately, glaring at his phone as though Asahi could somehow see him. “I know you’re not me but – people a hell of a lot weaker than you cope with a lot more, Asahi. You can do the second part, at least. Okay… okay. Tomorrow morning. Or I guess in a few hours, let’s meet at the station and go for a run before practice. And then we can stop by that donut shop right when they open… their donuts are amazing when they’re still warm, and we can get coffee and then head to practice. So just think about that tonight, okay? Running with me tomorrow. Delicious donuts. And I know it’s just as dumb as you think your fears are but that’s the kind of stuff I think about when I’m going to sleep, anyway, and I don’t usually have trouble. Maybe it’ll work for you, too?”

The line fell silent again. Noya stared at his phone, waiting anxiously for a reply. Even though he didn’t get it, even though Asahi was miles away, only with him through the miracle of a few buzzing wires, he wanted to win at this. Even if it was just for one night.

Finally there came another unsteady sigh and Asahi’s voice. “The station… what time?” 

Noya let out a relieved breath and said quickly, “Five? Think you can run on just a few hours sleep?”

“I wouldn’t be getting much more anyway,” said Asahi quietly. “And… and you’ll be there? At five?”

“Yup.”

“And we’ll get breakfast.”

“Yeah, something small so we don’t puke our guts out during practice. As hilarious as that would be.”

Noya could hear Asahi shifting, and when he spoke again his voice was different. The holes in his speech filled in. Enough that Noya felt safe pushing the covers back to get some fresh air before he suffocated.

“The station at five. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then, Asahi.” Noya hesitated. “…Is it okay if I say goodnight? Or do you want to talk more?”

“I should be okay now. I think. The panic attack’s gone so… I tend to feel drained after them. And if we’re running I should… I should try again. To sleep.”

“You should. I won’t go easy on you just ‘cause you’re sleep deprived.”

“…Well that’s. Just a bit cruel.”

Noya laughed quietly and took Asahi off speaker to press his phone to his ear.

“Mom says I’d make a good physical therapist.”

“You would,” Asahi said quietly. “But you might risk being murdered by one of your patients.”

“What, you think some guy with a knee replacement can take me?”

“Crutches are heavier than you’d think. Longer range, too.”

Noya laughed again, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his face into the pillow.

“When did you get to be so funny, Asahi?”

“That would be the sleep deprivation talking. I— oh shoot, hang on.”

There came another voice from the other end of the line, a lighter one, its words muddied with distance. A moment later Asahi said softly, “No, Mom, I’m okay. You can go back to bed.” The voice spoke again before Asahi returned. “Sorry. Mom heard me. I should go.”

“Okay,” Noya said, intrigued but not wanting to pry. He heard Asahi falter, even through the phone, and he had to grin. Predictable.

“Tomorrow at five, Asahi. Don’t be late.”

“R-Right,” Asahi stammered, sounding more himself. “I won’t be. I – uh. …Good night, Nishinoya. And. Thanks. Again.”

“You’re welcome again,” Noya said quietly, starting to drift off now that the crisis had apparently passed. “You’re welcome a lot of future times too, Asahi, just so we’re clear.”

“I’ll try and keep that in mind. I… I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“At five,” Noya mumbled, clinging to the words.

“Right,” came Asahi’s soft voice. “At five. Good night.”

The line went silent.

Noya let his phone fall against the pillow and watched it until the screen went black. His head felt full of spider threads. Slowly forming words like that one web in the book with the pig. And he was unsurprised, as he slowly drifted off, to find most of them weaving the soft, pale lines of Asahi’s name.

Early morning crawled into his skin, dark and damp. The cold nearly took his breath away, and as he jogged to the station, bag bouncing against his back, Noya had to fight for every step he took. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this exhausted. His body normally woke up automatically after seven hours of sleep. It didn’t know what to do with two and a half.

As he rounded the corner the harsh lights of the station nearly blinded him. He staggered up the steps like a drunk on a bad day, cursing softly. Light. Who invented light, what horrible fuck—

He nearly crashed headlong into Asahi.

A quick hand on his shoulder saved him from toppling backwards. He blinked up at his teammate, wincing when he saw how bone-weary Asahi looked. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles tugging at the lower lids. His hair was sticking together in greasy clumps, falling in his face. And Noya was fairly sure the T-shirt Asahi was wearing was so old its thread count was down to two.

“…Asahi, you look terrible,” Noya gently informed the other boy. “Good morning.”

“...I—… uh…”

Asahi stared down at Noya, and Noya could practically see the rusted cogs of Asahi’s brain attempting to manufacture the correct words to respond. Or any words at all, really. 

“…You’re… tired?” Noya supplied, padding over to a locker. “It’s okay. I’m not expecting a proper greeting out of you right now. You’re forgiven.”

“Morning, sorry. And tired’s… accurate,” Asahi said quietly, nudging open one of the bottom lockers with his foot. “My stuff’s in. Number. Uh.” He crouched down after a moment, brown eyes fixed on the little number plate. Slightly crossed.

Noya let out a little sigh and knelt down as well, fighting back a grin. It wasn’t nice to find amusement in other people’s suffering. If Asahi had stayed up all night playing video games he’d tease him, but even he could tell he shouldn’t prod the older boy too much.

He reached out and pointed to the first number.

“That’s a four, Asahi. Four.”

Noya laughed when Asahi gave him a completely lost look and he reached over to lightly pat his teammate’s shoulder before shoving his things in the locker.

“So if you don’t mind, I’ll take you on one of my favorite routes. It should only be about forty five minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Asahi said quietly, pushing himself to his feet. “And sorry – I. I probably don’t… I’m not that put together. I figured that since we were going to… run… and I just… couldn’t. Get up the energy to… uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression pinched. Noya tilted his head to the side, waiting, but when nothing happened he lightly nudged Asahi’s side.

“We’re going to get pretty gross. It’s okay if you didn’t take a shower,” he said politely, hopping over to a railing to start stretching.

“I promise I’m not in the habit of skipping out on basic things like… hygiene,” Asahi mumbled, joining Noya. “Some nights are just… hard. After dinner I don’t… want to really be alone. Or I lose energy to do certain things. Like clean my room or do homework or… or take in the laundry if it’s raining out. I’ll just kind of stare at it through the window like ‘oh I should probably do something about my shirts getting wet’ and I just can’t… make myself take the five steps to the door.” He seemed to realize he had an audience, and quickly stammered, “I-It’s not bad all the time, though. Just sometimes…”

“Your mom doesn’t yell at you to do that stuff?” Noya said in surprise, bouncing on the balls of his feet to loosen up his muscles. Asahi shook his head.

“My mom is in her own world most of the time,” Asahi explained, carefully picking his way down the steps to stand on level ground. “I don’t mean to make her sound neglecting because she’s not. But.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, his eyes fixed on the graying horizon. “Sometimes it feels like we’re leading two different lives in the same house.”

Noya frowned at that, trying to piece together what Asahi could mean.

“Well… you are,” he said slowly. “It’s not like she’s going to school or doing club stuff. And I’m sure you’re not… I don’t know. Going to book club and making tea or… I honestly have no idea what your mother does.”

“I know – I know that,” Asahi mumbled, tugging at his threadbare shirt. “I mean more like… we’re just roommates. Or I’m… just. A ghost unless I’m… in trouble. And then I’m solid again and she’s upset and just wants to help me get… invisible again. Invisible but calm.” He quickly shook his head. “A-Anyway, you said running?”

“I probably said running at some point, yes,” Noya said, a bit lost now. “Asahi, do… I mean…” Shit, this was precarious, he could tell. Not fight precarious but Asahi was still not meeting his eyes, and Noya had the feeling that had little to do with sleep deprivation. More with whatever had made Asahi not care that he’d left the house looking like he’d been wearing the same outfit for twenty years. Noya let out a little breath and said to hell with it and just asked. “Do you want to talk? I’m not the best listener but I try. Most of the time I try really hard.”

“N-No – no, I really… really do not want to talk anymore,” Asahi said, his voice almost cracking. “Just run. Please. Before I start talking again.”

“…But you just said you don’t—”

“I don’t want to talk, but my brain does. Desperately.” Asahi gave Noya a hopeless look and then gestured aimlessly forward. “Just running. Please.” His lips twitched slightly in what was probably supposed to be a smile. “I’ll be okay.”

“…If you’re sure,” Noya said, taking a moment to release the snares he’d set to keep some of Asahi’s more important words in his brain for discussion. If Asahi didn’t want to talk, that was fine with him. No talking. Just running.

Without a word he began to run, setting his course for the mountains that threatened to upend the back of a shrine a few blocks away. There was a small footpath that snaked its way up past the smaller altars carved into the exposed rock. Little Jizō statues stretched their mossy necks out over the path, the red cloth resting against their bowed chests flashing in the corner of Noya’s vision. Sixty eight steps away from the road and all the noise fell away. The altar niches grew older. Faces on the carvings more pitted, the moss richer until it was impossible to tell what was stone and what was god. 

Asahi’s footsteps were steady. Noya could barely hear him running a few paces behind. He ran as though the path weren’t choked with tree roots, like there was no incline. Measured steps. Oddly resolute. Not incredibly fast, but solid. Trusting the ground implicitly. 

Noya picked up his pace as the path flat lined, debating for a moment whether to aim for the peak or the bridge. He opted for peak and banked right sharply at the turning point.

Asahi didn’t so much as slip. Barely sounded out of breath. It would have been frustrating if it were anyone else, but Noya just grinned and dug his toes into the clotted soil, stretching out his hand to let his palm rake against the trees that swallowed the path. 

It was going to be one of those running sessions. He could feel it. The ones where his body shoved his mind off into some other plane entirely and everything became wonderfully, awesomely quiet until all that remained was instinct. The core of whatever it was that drove him to tear his muscles apart just to reach the top of the next hill, the next clearing, the next plummet into the recesses of the mountains.

Step by step Noya felt himself slip away. His muddy trainers tore into the path, a bolt of competitiveness striking through everything when he felt Asahi pick up his pace as well.

Was it a race.

His reptilian brain desperately wanted to know.

Was it a race, were they competing or were they together. Or was it both, like a pack of dogs? Could two dogs be a pack? Didn’t matter. Which was it.

Noya risked a glance over his shoulder. His ace was there, dangerously close to nipping at his heels. There wasn’t much of just Asahi left in the brown eyes that met his. Just instinct.

Pack.

Definitely.

Noya bared his teeth in a grin as he took the next set of stairs at a frantic pace. Rough logs hammered into the sides of the mountain to give purchase, their bases clogged with rotting leaves. His legs were screaming, muscles clawing against the bones as the bones begged them for rest. Noya ignored the cacophony. Trees were starting to thin, he could see the first flashes of the stone archways through the bark. The shine at the top of the mountain.

The last arch seemed as good a finish line as any.

Noya put on an extra burst of speed and behind him he heard Asahi do the same. The path was too narrow for them to run abreast of one another, but damn if Asahi didn’t seem intent on trying. The stairs curved sharply to the right. Noya lost traction in the mud, laughing when he nearly careened into a tree. A burst of white flew by him, and he recovered in time to see Asahi’s back pulling away from him. There was no hesitation. No stopping to make sure he was okay. From trust or single-mindedness, Noya wasn’t sure. But not once did Asahi look back.

Noya scraped himself off the mountain face and kept going. He caught up with Asahi quickly but the ace stayed just out of reach. 

And Noya let him.

They passed under the first arch. One of five that tottered their way up the last of the steps. There had been more, in the past. Their stumps dotted the edges of the path. 

The sky was pink and grey, pale orange light filtering through the canopy of leaves above their heads as they passed under the second. Noya kept his eyes trained on the back in front of him.

Third.

Asahi nearly missed a step, his shoe slipping on the mossy slime that clung to the log.

Fourth.

Noya saw the first glimpses of the old wooden shrine just over Asahi’s shoulder. Deserted but maintained. No weeds. Roof intact. Thankfully devoid of visitors. The small gravel clearing in front of the shrine was empty too.

Fifth.

Asahi turned sharply to the left, catching himself on the wooden fence that ran the edge of the shrine grounds. On the other side was a steep drop, plunging back down into the woods. 

Noya slid on the gravel as he tried to come to a stop, barely managing to stay upright. He hurt. Down to the splintering bones in his legs, his lungs sucking in desperate bursts of frigid air. With one hand he braced himself against the fence next to Asahi, fighting back waves of nausea. He heard Asahi struggle to breathe, and without thinking he reached over to rest his hand on the back of his teammate’s neck. Taciturn support, maybe. Another facet of instinct. Of the pack.

He felt Asahi shift closer, but when he risked a glance at the older boy he found his head bowed, eyes fixed on the tops of the trees below. His arms were shaking.

Noya slowly lowered his hand and forced himself to stand up straight. Hurt. It hurt terribly but it was good for him. Standing up straight.

He lifted his eyes above the line of the trees, listening to Asahi calm his breathing. He watched the first arc of the sun pierce the horizon. Soft pink light stained the undersides of the clouds, slowly burning away their tawny crowns. 

And Asahi was still staring at the gravel.

Noya reached out to silently tug on Asahi’s arm. When the third year still didn’t budge, Noya pulled himself together enough to arrange the proper syllables on his tongue.

“Asahi.”

At the sound of his name, Asahi finally lifted his head. His deep brown eyes widened, gaze transfixed to the east. Noya propped his elbows up on the fence, exhaustion hibernating just under the surface of his skin. He gestured towards the sun, a tired grin on his face.

“Your namesake.”

Asahi’s lips twitched up in the shadow of a smile before they warped into their normal frown once more.

“…I’m so tired I feel like my eyeballs are going to fall out of their sockets.”

Noya burst out laughing, the harsh noise clanging around the wooden slats of the shrine behind them. He could feel Asahi staring at him.

“You too, huh?”

“Exhausted to the point of delirium? Oh, definitely,” Noya promised, bumping his shoulder against Asahi’s. “Best forty minutes of your life though, right?”

Asahi hummed in the back of his throat, whether in agreement or denial, Noya couldn’t tell. Didn’t care. Didn’t matter.

“…You did think about having to walk back down. I hope.”

Noya paused, and then with a loud groan draped himself over the fence. He heard Asahi make an alarmed noise, felt a pressure against his back. Fingers tightening in his T-shirt, maybe.

“C-Careful—”

“I always forget that part,” Noya mumbled, pushing himself up a bit so Asahi wouldn’t think he was going to throw himself off the cliff just to shave a few minutes off their return time.

“I figured. We can be late for practice.”

“Just a few minutes.”

Asahi relinquished his hold on Noya’s shirt, his hand falling to rest awkwardly at his side. They watched the sun rise for a few minutes, Noya subtly stretching as best he could to keep his muscles from cramping.

“Nishinoya.”

Noya tilted his head back, silently answering the call. Asahi was still staring straight ahead, but after a moment his gaze shifted to catch Noya’s. The dark circles were worse. His hair was barely pulled back, his T-shirt stuck to his arms and chest in a way that was wildly unattractive. He looked like one of the old Jizō statues. Hard to tell what was Asahi and what was the odd darkness that had crept into Noya’s phone at two in the morning. 

Noya watched carefully as Asahi rubbed the back of his neck, seeming to trip over himself mentally a thousand times before he took a step closer. There was honesty in his expression now. The hard, brutal sort that Noya recognized from a few, choice memories. Mostly yell-y ones.

And then Asahi leaned down, and for one wild moment Noya thought of the gym wall against his back. Chapped lips. Long eyelashes against his cheeks. Stubble against his chin.

It was all so vivid, hitting his exhausted body like a sledgehammer that he very nearly backed off the cliff. A panicked, “Asahi—” was all that managed to escape before Asahi spoke, as though he hadn’t even heard.

“Thank you.”

Asahi pressed his forehead against Noya’s, his eyes slipping shut as the two words slid past his lips.  
They were whispered, so soft and close they made Noya squirm. He could feel the heat from Asahi’s breath, the smell of his deodorant and whatever detergent he used clinging to his nostrils. Both of them were disgusting, Noya was amazed he could smell anything good and civilized at all. They were muddy and soaked with sweat, self-stranded on top of a mountain, probably about to be gored by boars or get their legs broken trying to retrace their steps back into the woods.

But despite the sweat and mountains and boars Noya found his hand resting in the crook of Asahi’s shoulder. Fingers clutched at the threadbare fabric. His forehead gently butted against the other boy’s like a cat nuzzling its owner’s hand. A dog silently asking to be pet. Like people in dramas, in fiction where foreheads were never sweaty and everyone smelled like only the good parts of the woods and of dawn, not like night-terror sweat and squelching mud.

Waiting for instinct.

Noya could only nod, his cheeks turning pink when his nose bumped against Asahi’s.

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered. “It… Glad. You had fun.”

Asahi just smiled, his eyes crinkling around the corners. And Noya waited, his heart hammering in his chest. Waited for the gym wall against his back, the stubble against his chin the chapped lips the large hand cupping his cheek, pressing him against the wall—

Asahi pushed himself upright. He wiped his broad palm over his forehead, making a disgusted face.

“Guess this means we’ll have to use the showers at the public bath. It’s not far from the station, right?”

Noya blinked, staring at the vacuum where Asahi had been only a few seconds ago. He shifted very slightly to fill the unstable space and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. They’re not… it’s not that bad. I use them a lot,” he said lightly.

Asahi sighed heavily and hoisted his leg up onto the fence to stretch. He groaned aloud and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“This was a very stupid idea. You’re more persuasive than my intelligence level – please don’t talk me into something this insane again in the near future. I’m fairly sure I ruptured my spleen.”

Noya laughed. Normal. Some control.

“You can always get a new spleen, Asahi, but I’m fairly sure you can’t replicate that experience.”

“I’ll have to disagree with you on that one,” Asahi muttered, pushing himself away from the fence and hobbling back towards the stairs. Noya jogged to catch up with him, gently teasing the older boy about his old main gait. Matched the rest of his look.

The trees swallowed them up again, stifling conversation. They picked their way back down the steps. Through the arches. Over the moss encrusted bridge. The rock faces growing on either side, leading them down, down into the valley. Into the back of the shrine, the traffic, the crowded station where anxious commuters spared them horrified looks before skirting them a wide berth. Showers, rushed and freezing, uniform shirts thrown on over un-dried bodies, feet crammed hastily into mud-caked trainers. Donuts leaving grease-stains on paper bags, hair dripping wet, school gate creaking open.

Noya paused, one foot inside the gym. He felt Asahi brush by him, thick fingers tapping his elbow as the older boy passed. A soft smile before voices carried him away. Somewhere out of reach again. Back to daytime. Properly in the light.

Noya glanced over his shoulder at the mountain and then stepped fully into the gym, closing the door behind him.

Another fluke.

He was pretty sure something could happen twice and still be counted as one.

Noya scrubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, tossing the donut bag at Ryū. Extras for him, nice friend, yeah he really was, don’t puke them up during practice.

A second fluke. It had to be. It was nostalgia, déjà-vu that had almost made him lean in. Repeating the experience.

Just a second fluke but god.

God.

Why did his instincts want a third so badly?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way, way too long to write and edit because it’s freakishly long. Hopefully I can start writing shorter chapters soon. But this one was fun to write since I’ve been looking forward to it for a while. I'll be returning to this after I've worked on my other fic for a bit, so hopefully the length of this one will make up for any break in updates that may follow.  
> Enjoy!

“Really?! A stuffed turtle?!”

Half of the patrons in the café looked over towards their table, annoyed grimaces plastered on their faces. Noya was cheerfully oblivious. He leaned forward towards Asahi, eyes wide.

Asahi nodded and hid a grin behind his mug of hot chocolate.

“He freaked out when I touched it. Legit just – lost it. Red in the face, disappointed-father style yelling.”

Noya let out a howl of laughter, throwing himself back in the bench seat.

“W-What – why the hell does Daichi have a stuffed animal collection – i-in glass display cases?!”

Asahi shrugged, cautiously pushing a few more fries onto Noya’s plate.

“They’re ‘childhood mementos.’ So reads the label,” he quipped, biting his lip when Noya laughed again. “You know he was an army brat growing up. Shuffled around to so many bases… the turtle was from Okinawa, I think…”

“I didn’t know that, actually,” Noya said, wiping his eyes and pushing himself upright again. He shoved a handful of fries in his mouth, glancing out the window at the lively weekend streets. “It explains so much, though. The hairstyle.”

“The authoritarian disposition. That’s… weirdly tempered by fits of childishness.”

“I thought he hated you at first,” Noya admitted, propping his elbows on the table. “He was always yelling at you. Jokingly, but still.”

Asahi gave him a dry look, pushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. “I think people would say the same about you, Nishinoya. Considering how often you get on my case.”

“Oh, you don’t need to just think it. I can confirm that they most definitely do. Ryū used to lecture me on being nice,” Noya said, noticing the extra fries and throwing Asahi a winning smile. 

Asahi just winced and mumbled something under his breath before he cleared his throat. “So, um… I know you said you wanted to hang out since it’s Saturday, but it’s our last chance before training camp to do… normal. Things. What did you have in mind?”

“Game center,” Noya said immediately, sitting cross-legged on the bench seat. “I want to pit you against level five online players this time.”

“…I-I… okay.”

Noya tilted his head to the side, slowly chewing a fry as he studied Asahi. Ever since they’d met up at the station he’d been waiting for that little fluke to happen again. But everything about Asahi was painfully normal now. Just Asahi. Well, Just Asahi 2.0. The version he'd come to know. Same style of clothes he wore last time. Same generally-content expression. Same polite, good-natured cheer. Same odd, nervous energy that flared up at the weirdest times. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that made him extraordinary. His pseudo-somnambulism was what made him do unexpected things. Like touch foreheads. Made his voice deeper, eyes half-lidded, lips smile more.

Or maybe it was the mountain.

Because whatever creature Noya had met there the other day wasn’t sitting across from him at the table now. The normalcy of it all was making him feel guilty for blowing off hanging out with Ryū just to get lunch and dick around the arcade with Asahi. Ryū had wanted him to talk, ask Asahi his opinion. But that meant admitting things and putting little words together in his head he could barely say to himself.

It’d be easier to focus on Asahi again. See if he could get him to revert to mountain mode.

Making him fight people way better than him in Tekken seemed as good a method as any.

“If you want to do something else, I’m game,” Noya finally said, when it became apparent Asahi wasn’t going to do anything more than just stammer at him.

“N-No, the game center is fine for a bit,” Asahi said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I was sort of hoping we could maybe… there’s the shopping center. And… uh. I… kind of wanted to pick out some clothes. My brother and his wife are visiting soon and she’ll yell at me if I look like a slob… Plus I’m going hiking and my boots are – well, they’re garbage.”

“Step one would be buying boots that are made from something more substantial than garbage, Asahi,” Noya teased, stealing the rest of Asahi’s fries and earning only a weak ‘h-hey’ in protest. “But sure! I can do that. I should probably look for some non-T-shirt stuff. My mom has started getting on my case lately about dressing like an adult.”

Asahi stared at Noya and then asked diplomatically, “Has the hair come up yet.”

“Oh yeah.” Noya tugged at the bleached strands. “She freaked out when I told her I wanted to dye my hair at all. I snuck into my dad’s salon with Ryū and nearly poisoned us with bleach. I was a genius last year, clearly. This little bit was the compromise we reached.”

“So Tanaka talked you into it?”

“Planted the idea Inception style, but I was the one with the drive to execute it,” Noya said proudly. He fished a few bills out of his wallet, but before he could set them down Asahi had already stood and power-walked over to the counter to pay. Noya stared at him in surprise and then pushed himself out of the booth to follow. He hovered awkwardly behind Asahi, and when the older boy turned around he pointed out, “You’re going to be broke soon if you keep this up. Not that I mind you compensating me for… whatever, but it’s kind of making me feel like a prostitute.”

Asahi stared down at Noya, his whole face slowly turning a deep crimson. Behind the counter the waitress shifted uncomfortably and then said in a weak voice, “S-Sir, your change…”

Asahi whirled around and grabbed the few bills and coins, hastily shoving them into his wallet. Noya rolled his eyes and hurried after the older boy.

“Oh come on, Asahi, I know you’ve heard that word before!”

“But not applied to one of my teammates,” Asahi mumbled, his frantic steps slowing to let Noya catch up. “And not… not to a teammate I’ve. You know.”

Noya blinked.

“…You’ve?”

Asahi gave him an exasperated look.

“…Kissed.”

“Oh! Oh, right. That happened…” Noya laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t even thinking about that. Sorry.”

“You mean I’m the only one haunted by that memory?” Asahi said dryly, scrubbing a hand over his face. He tensed and glanced down at Noya. “Oh – g-god, I didn’t mean for that to sound so—”

“I knew what you meant,” Noya said, trying not to be ruffled. “And I mean, I’ve… y’know, thought about it. I guess. Meant to think more about it but I keep forgetting.”

Asahi let out a little laugh and Noya lifted his head to stare at him questioningly.

“What?”

“That’s just very you,” Asahi said, an envious note in his voice. “To forget to be worried about something.”

“A philosophy I’d recommend you embrace if at all possible,” Noya said firmly, ducking into the arcade center and bounding up the stairs to the second floor.

“I think my style is more ‘curl up in a corner and hope things go away,’” Asahi muttered. “Same strategy I was told to use for bears.”

Noya burst out laughing. “Who gave you that advice?!”

“My brother Jun,” Asahi said, settling down at the console and slotting in the coins. “Right after that Takeshi started kicking him in the ribs and told him to wait for it to stop.”

“Rough brothers, huh?”

“The worst.”

There was a smile on Asahi's face that didn’t mesh with his deadpan tone. His fingers flew over the buttons as he logged in. Noya propped his chin on the back of the chair, watching the screen.

“How’d you end up so timid, then?” he suddenly asked, just before Asahi’s character registered. 

“Probably because of them,” Asahi muttered, his eyes narrowing as he concentrated. “They’d speak for me when I was little. My mom would ask if I wanted something and either Jun or Takeshi would answer for me. My parents thought I had some sort of learning disability. But when they took me to a doctor, the moment she met my brothers she said their personalities were overpowering mine and that it would change once they moved out of the house.”

“Did it?”

“I’m wearing clothes my brother’s wife demanded I wear. So I think the jury might still be out.”

“So it’s gotten worse,” Noya laughed, sitting down in the empty console next to Asahi’s. “Extending beyond the family lines.”

“To my libero, even,” Asahi deadpanned, but he flashed Noya a little smile before turning back to the screen. It made Noya’s stomach lurch, and he grabbed onto the armrest just in case it was the game that had made him feel roller-coastery. When the console remained bolted firmly to the ground, Noya risked a glance at Asahi again. The older boy’s face was slightly pinched and he was biting his lip as he concentrated. But his eyes were normal. Relaxed.

God dammit what had it been that had made Asahi look so animated? Made the fluke happen? Wasn’t competition, obviously, or frustration. Asahi looked ready to punch the console when he lost again before taking a calming breath and surrendering another hundred yen coin to the beast. Clearly still in control. Not wild. 

Noya wracked his brain, ignoring its petulant whines as it was forced to work on the weekend. What had they done besides run themselves into the ground. Shrine visit? Maybe Asahi had been possessed. Morning light? A sort of reverse-vampire situation? Trees? Gravel? Sweaty running clothes? Touch?

Noya paused at that last one. His hand had touched Asahi’s back. Kind of a lot. More than necessary if he forced himself to admit it.

His eyes slowly slid to the side to study the curve of Asahi’s neck. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Adequate testing site.

Noya hopped off of the console seat and moved to stand behind Asahi. He leaned in, watching the pixels move across the screen. Asahi’s character dealt the opponent a series of rabid blows, and it took everything Noya had to remember that he was on a mission and to not get sucked into the game.

He hissed in sympathy as the other guy got a solid hit in, and very carefully, very casually, let his hand rest on the back of Asahi’s neck.

“Wha—Nishinoya!”

Asahi jumped so high he nearly hit his head on the arching part of the machine.

His character died instantly.

Asahi stared at the screen, defeated. Noya quickly pulled his hand away, offering Asahi a bashful grin.

“Whoops. Got too into it, I think.”

“…It’s fine,” Asahi mumbled, pushing another coin into the slot. “Just startled me. I forgot you were there.”

…Well that didn’t feel great.

“Because you were concentrating,” Noya supplied, leaning forward again and obstinately resting his chin on Asahi’s head. See if he’d forget him then.

“Yeah – why else would I?” Asahi asked, clearly mystified. The server quickly connected another game and Asahi fell silent once more, seeming not to mind that Noya’s chin was digging into his skull.

“Nishinoya, I can feel you breathing.”

Or maybe he did.

“Is that a problem?” Noya asked lightly, not moving.

“…It’s a little unsettling,” Asahi mumbled, his fingers flying across the buttons. “Nothing like having a ribcage expanding against your shoulder.”

“Asahi if you want me to move, just say so,” Noya said, feeling oddly crushed. Asahi fell silent, his brown eyes flicking across the screen. Noya waited for a response and, when he got none, lowered himself back onto his heels. His chest felt cold.

Asahi’s opponent went sailing across the stage. Asahi tipped his head back, pushing hair out of his eyes.

“…Sorry,” he said quietly. “That was kind of a rude way to ask you to move.”

“Wasn’t really a way at all, since you didn’t say anything,” Noya grumbled, sitting back down in his seat. Asahi’s cheeks turned red and he mumbled another sorry before the server connected him to his next opponent and he turned back to the console.

Noya watched him play in silence, allowing himself to feel disappointed for a few seconds. So. Competition did nothing. Touch apparently made Asahi implode like a Coke can at Marianas Trench depth. What the hell had it been, then? Noya lashed out with his foot, kicking the solid metal stand of the console. Dammit. There was a wall there, very clearly. He could practically see the air between them vibrating when he hit it. It hadn’t been there when Asahi had touched his forehead. Definitely hadn’t been there when he’d kissed him, didn’t seem to be there when Suga punched Asahi’s arm or Daichi clapped him on the shoulder.

What the hell would it take?

A small crowd had started to gather around Asahi since he was now, apparently, kicking enough virtual ass to be interesting. Noya took advantage of the little crowd and slipped away just a bit to send a text to Ryū.

/hey can i ask you for non-sarcastic life advice right now/

Ryū’s reply came suspiciously quickly.

/did you ask asahi about you wanting to half-bone dudes yet/

/god –ryū i don’t want to half bone anyone. or whole bone. any kind of bone./

/you know what i mean. did you ask?/

/no, okay, it hasn’t come up yet/

/well no shit sherlock something like that’s not going to come up organically. ask him or no advice for you/

/hey do you have chikara’s new number? he’s so wise. practically omniscient./

/so what sort of advice did you need, sweetie?/

Noya spared a glance towards the console, surprised to see Asahi engaging someone in conversation in-between rounds. And looking like he was enjoying himself.

“Universe that’s just – mean,” Noya mumbled, hunching over his phone a bit more. At least Asahi wouldn’t see him on his phone and feel badly.

/serious advice only, okay. consider this like last year. with the miyuki crisis. remember how i didn’t laugh at you and was a supportive and amazing friend and convinced you to not pierce your ear because you’d look like a hindu deity?/

/yeah I remember. that was some good advice. and all right, serious glasses on. what's up./

/totally unrelated to that other problem. the half bone problem, so don’t make the connection. but. okay how… do you make a person be okay with. like you and kinoshita. you guys don’t hang out too often but when you do you’re so chummy and shit. like. how? lots of high-fives? blood pacts? and when there’s a boundary or – or whatever between you and another person, how do you find out where that is without asking them? ‘cause say it’s a pretty complicated boundary and you’re kind of testing the waters but the other person is just like ‘no this is where it is’ and you’re like ‘but the other day you drew it here not there what changed’ but the other person doesn’t even seem to realize they did that and you don’t really want to bring it up? and like. affection. and shit. how do you ask for that? or do you have to? can't it just be like ‘oh hey my chin feels pretty good here’ and unless the other person is explicitly like ‘your chin doesn’t go there’ can you just leave it there? is that okay? when is that okay? and how do you know if it’s not or like. if you’re being creepy and the other person is just too polite. i’ve never had to think about this shit before. where my chin can or can’t go. and like. how do you know if someone’s excited to be with you and not just faking it? especially if they’re a really good faker and have faked stuff before but in the opposite direction. how do you know if you’re important enough to matter? but without asking. does that make sense?/

Noya hit send and watched message one of… six… get sent off into the ether. Shit. Holy shit he should have proofread.

“Nishinoya?”

“Yes! Yes – hi, Asahi, sorry,” Noya stammered, quickly hurrying back over, the crowd parting for him a bit. “Sorry. Text. I promise I watched all the good parts.”

Asahi gave him a bemused smile.

“It’s okay if you didn’t. I’m having fun,” he said, relaxing back in the seat again. The next round started just as Noya’s phone buzzed. He carefully tugged it out of his pocket and snuck a glance at the screen.

/what./

It buzzed again.

/what./

/what the hell was that, noya/

/what am i supposed to do with that. i honestly don’t know –is this a cry for help?/

Noya made a frustrated noise and rubbed his forehead against his phone, willing his thoughts to be translated into people words he could send and not have to work at making them.

/just forget it. i'm overthinking or something./

/fairly sure that’s not possible. i'm just going to assume this is about asahi and use that as a springboard./

/i said it’s not about the half-bone thing./

Noya realized a moment too late how that must have sounded and quickly sent off another text.

/the bi thing. which asahi is related to. that’s all i meant. it’s a friend thing. totally unrelated./

/uh-huh./

Noya bit his lip and typed up a few replies, but every single one of them was a bold-faced lie. Not even a half truth like the previous one. Before he could continue to try and fumble his way through being a conversing human being, Ryū threw him a line.

/to try and answer your. myriad. of terrifyingly un-specific questions, i guess my only advice for you is that shit like that just has to happen naturally. you can’t force it. like with kinoshita I could sort of tell he was uncomfortable around me last year, so i backed off and things built naturally. it takes a while./

/it didn’t take a while with you and me/, Noya felt the need to point out, feeling oddly betrayed. /isn’t there a way to quick-start it? like a glitch?/

/well we have that whole reincarnation theory, remember. makes total sense things aren’t going as smoothly with asahi. he wasn’t your fellow goat herd member in turn of the century napal./

Noya sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers trembling with nerves as he frantically typed back a message.

/i said this wasn’t about asahi./

/you said it wasn’t about wanting to half-bone things. that's all. and the only thing that could get you this worked up is him so i managed to put two and two together myself. it’s about asahi. what else is new./

/that’s not true/

/okay/

Noya bristled.

/don’t just ‘okay’ me/

/then don’t lie to me/

/i'm not lying!/

/no but youre being really cagey and trying to tiptoe around everything and youre definitely not 100% truthing! i cant offer advice or whatever if youre even actually looking for it and not just hoping someone will tell you youre not wasting your time hanging around an upperclassman who kissed you ONCE and clearly shows no further interest if youre having to force things and ask your single, straight friend how to get someone to be affectionate which is really fucking weird and a week ago you wouldnt have asked that! youd just have DONE SOMETHING without needing to seek my approval cause youre so insecure. if you wanna hold the guys hand or touch chins or whatever the hell you were babbling about then just DO IT/

Noya’s fingers tightened around his phone so badly the casing started to creak. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep his temper. Before he could even mentally compose a reply, his phone buzzed again.

/c’mon, man. do you not trust me anymore?/

Noya stared at the message, his anger slowly bleeding away. He tapped his fingers aimlessly against the keys for a moment before finally replying.

/can you blame me for being scared/

“Nishinoya?”

Noya looked up from his phone, meeting Asahi’s worried gaze. The other boy was crouching in front of him, brown eyes wide and tense. The small crowd was staring at the two of them, exchanging questioning glances. Over Asahi’s shoulder, Noya could see the game still going. Asahi’s character was getting creamed.

“A-Asahi – your game,” Noya stammered, wincing when his voice cracked.

“It’s only a hundred yen,” Asahi said quietly. “You made a weird noise. Is everything okay?”

The barrier plinked softly as it cracked. Just a bit.

Noya watched Asahi’s health bar drop, the GAME OVER sign flashing a moment later.

Asahi didn’t so much as turn around.

Noya felt his phone buzz again, and with a sudden burst of impulse he pressed his finger against the power button and held it down. His phone let out one last weak vibration and then fell silent.

“Fine,” he said, finally meeting Asahi’s gaze. “Just a weird communication error.”

Asahi’s brows knit together as he frowned. He quickly fished his phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment.

“…I’m getting a full strength signal,” he said slowly. “Do you want to use my phone?”

“What – oh. Nah – I mean, no, that’s. Fine,” Noya said awkwardly, standing up. The crowd had gathered around another player who had taken over the console. Obviously they considered Asahi a dead man. Noya let out a little breath and gave Asahi a little smile.

“Sorry I asked you to play and then just messed around with my phone. That was pretty douchey of me.”

“Technology frustrations can be all-consuming. I know how it goes,” said Asahi, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I think I’m gamed out for today. Maybe… I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “…I have some… systems at my house. If you ever wanted to come over and… watch me play them.” He winced. “That sounded so – so lame, sorry…”

“It’s not lame,” Noya said immediately, his chest tightening. “I mean – older consoles? What generations?”

“I—I don’t… know?” Asahi said, his eyes widening a bit. “They were my brothers’… I inherited them after they left for college…”

“Oh! Oh okay—oh.” 

Noya stared at Asahi. 

“…Wait, these consoles are at your house?”

Asahi nodded slowly.

“…Where you live?”

“That’s… generally what house implies,” said Asahi carefully. “I… I mean, I know it’s not as cool as going to a game center or—”

“It’s cool!” Noya insisted. “It’s really cool – just. I haven’t been to a friend’s house other than Ryū’s since elementary school! I tend to get excitable – I mean, no shit, but rumors started circulating about how I forgot and left a space heater on and burned down Kimura’s house which is just a bold-faced lie. His blanket barely got singed.”

“Oh – well I’ll just… make sure Mom locks up all her hair dryers before you come over,” Asahi said, biting his lip as he fixed his hair. 

“Dryers? Plural?” Noya laughed, following Asahi out of the game center. “How many does she need?”

“We’ve fought over them in the past. Spares had to be bought to keep the peace. That’s all I feel like saying about it.”

Noya snorted quietly, the weight of his phone in his pocket all but forgotten. He tugged on Asahi’s scarf as they stepped outside. 

“So, clothes? For hiking or whatever?”

“The ‘or whatever’ part has me concerned, but yeah. The shopping center I’m familiar with is this way, towards the station.” Asahi pointed further down the arcade, taking a moment to wait for Noya to catch up. Noya nodded and followed Asahi, chattering amiably about whatever came to mind. Asahi didn’t seem to care, just responding with the appropriate noises every so often to show he was listening. They turned the corner into the western branch, but then a voice caught Noya’s attention.

“What – no fuckin’ way, it is him.”

“Look at his hair – hey! Nishinoya!”

Noya glanced over his shoulder towards the voice, surprised to see five boys walking his way. He squinted just a bit to bring them better into focus before recognition took hold. 

“Ishida, Tomoya! What the hell are you guys doin’ here?”

Ishida grinned and held up the bag in his hand.

“Just gettin’ some new runnin’ shoes. But man it’s been over a year since graduation, huh? Crazy shit.” Ishida laughed. “But you haven’t changed much. ‘Cept for the hair. Makes you look a little taller.”

“Yeah, kinda the point,” Noya said with a smile, wanting his former classmates to go away but not wanting to be a huge dick to accomplish it. “So you’re still doin’… basketball? Was that it?”

“Yeah. You still obsessed with volleyball?”

“Well—”

“I told you like a thousand times, playin’ a girl’s sport really doesn’t work like you hope. Senda dropped out of the club finally when Rika wouldn’t give him the time of day even after he helped her with her serve or whatever. Your team any good, though?”

“We’re pretty good,” Noya said lightly, really wanting to get away now. Ishida had always been a casual jerk. Not on purpose. It was just his nature. And while Noya normally relished that quality for the challenge it presented, he didn’t want the guy to say anything jerky around Asahi. He noticed Tomoya looking over his shoulder. Noya turned around to see what was so interesting and came face to face with Asahi, who was obviously trying to disappear into the wall.

“…He uh, with you? Nishinoya?”

“What – oh, yeah.” Noya took a little step back so he was shoulder to shoulder with Asahi. “This is Asa—Azumane. One of my teammates.”

“What the – you’re in high school?!” Ishida blurted out, while several of his cohort (whom Noya didn’t recognize) made quiet, surprised noises.

Noya was sure Asahi’s blush was giving him radiation poisoning it was so intense.

“Y… Yeah,” Asahi said with a weak smile. “Believe it or not…”

Ishida snorted and then said politely, “First year, I’m guessin’?”

“Azumane’s a third year, actually,” Noya interrupted.

“Ah, okay. Makes sense. Sorry for bein’ casual around your upperclassman,” Tomoya said, shifting from foot to foot.

“He’s not our upperclassman. Doesn’t matter. Right, Nishinoya?” Ishida grinned. “You always were pretty chummy with the third year guys back in junior high. They let you get away with that at your high school too?”

“Nishinoya is almost like an honorary third year, actually, but he insists on being polite,” Asahi said before Noya could even open his mouth. Noya’s eyes widened in surprise and he stared up at the other boy before he had to look away. Ishida and Tomoya exchanged looks before Ishida just smiled at Asahi.

“No shit. Well thanks for takin’ care of our former class mascot. And Inter-High’s comin’ up, right? Good luck.”

With a little wave, Ishida walked past them towards the shopping center, his entourage following after him. Tomoya gave Nishinoya a little smile before jogging to catch up with Ishida. Noya let out a little breath, but before he could apologize to Asahi he heard his former classmates speaking, their voices lowered.

“—think Nishinoya’s like Megumi? Remember when she showed up with that Louis Vuitton bag after workin’ at her ‘part time job’ for like, a week?”

“Probably. No way that other guy’s in high school. Not with that hair and build and clothes.”

“Fuckin’ nasty, man. Probably into Nishinoya since he still looks twelve. Got a wife at home who’s starin’ to age poorly or whatever. Can’t supply him the tiny dick he craves.”

“What – Ishida you’re a fuckin’ pedo yourself you can’t talk.”

“Hayashi’s not twelve! She’s a goddamn first year, man, don’t be gross.”

Noya felt his blood start to boil. He turned around and was about to pick up a trashcan and fling it at them when a gentle hand on his arm stopped him. Noya tried to jerk his arm away, not wanting to be kind or calm now, but Asahi tightened his grip

“Asahi— please let me go,” he said tersely. “You heard what they said—”

“I did,” Asahi said, and when Noya glanced up at the other boy he saw that his eyes were trained on the backs of the retreating boys, his gaze dark and sharp and full of horrible, black fire. Noya’s stomach did a black flip up into his esophagus, and he almost ran after Ishida just to insist that he come back and say more assholeish things. 

Competition, no. Touching, no. 

Immature jackasses? Apparently yes.

Noya wasn’t going to question it.

Asahi let go of Noya’s arm after a moment and shook his head slightly before offering the smaller boy a little smile. His eyes were normal again. God dammit.

“I heard them, but… they don’t matter.” Asahi laughed weakly. “Is what I think you’d say if you were me. So it’s making me want to say it.”

“…They matter a bit,” Noya mumbled, rubbing his arm as he glanced down the street just in time to see his former classmates turn a corner. “Ishida’s a fuckin’ – a darn rumormonger. I don’t want him saying things about you.”

“I don’t think he cares enough about me to put forth the effort,” Asahi said quietly. He paused.

“Wait – about me?”

“Implying that you’re – that you’d. I dunno. Like. That kind of stuff,” Noya said, glancing down at himself before looking up again. Like a twelve-year old. Well that was going to be stuck in his brain for a while. Just what he needed. More word-pins in his gray matter. 

Asahi made a little noise in the back of his throat and then, after a moment, started walking towards the shopping center again.

“…Well, I mean. It’s not like what they said about me wasn’t true. Just the stuff about you,” he said, very, very quietly.

Noya stopped.

“…What.”

Asahi blinked and then seemed to realize what he’d said.

“No! No – no, no no, not—not underage – nothing. No. No,” he stammered frantically. “Not the criminal implications. Just – the general. Things they said.”

Noya stared at Asahi’s anxious expression, a bit lost.

“…The stuff about tiny dicks?”

“No – not that… either.” Asahi rubbed a hand over his face and then turned around to keep walking, mumbling, “Never mind. You should be more upset about what they implied about you.”

“But who the hell would believe that? I dress like a Uniqlo model reject,” Noya said slowly, jogging after Asahi. “If I were whoring myself out you can bet I’d dress a bit more, you know, appealing. Just from a logistics point of view.”

“You – god.” Asahi shook his head.

“Not even close to one, but are you going to finish that thought, Asahi?” Noya asked slyly, shoving the five jackasses out of his brain. Their relevance had already expired. Asahi wasn’t upset. Didn’t matter.

Asahi gave him a wry look but then said politely, “I think you dress in accordance with your personality. That’s all.”

“So my personality is—”

“Studded belts and really mismatched T-shirts, yes.”

“Well we can’t all have a magical sister-in-law with great fashion sense or whatever,” Noya pointed out, grinning when Asahi laughed and then quickly caved.

The shopping center was absolutely packed. Noya wandered into the wrong store and nearly got trampled to death by a horde of people hell-bent on getting to a sales cart. Asahi managed to pull him out of the way in time, but Noya was still a bit spooked.

“God, where is this, Osaka?” he muttered, rubbing his shoulder where a middle-aged woman had beaned him with her purse.

“What?”

“Y’know. Everyone’s stingy, bargains are life. Don’t you keep up with comedic stereotypes, Asahi?”

“Not when they’re kind of mean,” Asahi said apologetically, craning his neck as he glanced around. 

“Oh.”

Noya stared up at the other boy, watching a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. Asahi pushed them aside and then offered him a small smile. Absent and kind. 

“This way, Nishinoya.”

He walked at his usual giant’s gait towards the escalator, and Noya followed. Past the endless glass displays of patisserie items and traditional sweets and colorful box displays of intricate cakes. Noya paused for a moment in front of one window, staring longingly at the sandwich cookies inside before he hurried after Asahi, not wanting to be separated. The escalator was thankfully abandoned and they rode up in silence.

Halfway between Women’s and Kitchen, Asahi glanced at him again.

“…Please don’t get mad for me bringing it up, but… were you friends with those guys in junior high?”

“I’m not mad,” Noya said immediately, resting his elbows on the moving handrail as they scooted up towards the fifth floor. He rested his finger against the wall, shuddering when the nail caught in the mortar. “And I guess. I hung out with them. They weren’t in club stuff with me, though, so we didn’t do much outside of school.” Noya laughed. “Didn’t really do much with anyone outside of school now that I think about it, except for getting snacks and stuff with the guys from club.”

“You didn’t?” Asahi blurted out. “What – I thought you had legions of friends or admirers – not … not like, r-romantically, but—”

“Guys hung out with me. I wasn’t the school pariah or anything,” Noya said, picking at a loose bit of rubber in the handrail. “But… I dunno. Third year they all got girlfriends or whatever. Stopped having time to do things. Girls weren’t really into me... I was ‘too intense’ for people. I think that’s how my homeroom teacher put it. ‘A small doses sort of child.’” Noya scowled. “Remember that one word for word. Mom thought it was hysterical and put the report on the fridge. When I got accepted to Karasuno I’m pretty sure my teachers were all stricken with simultaneous aneurysms. Immediately called up their colleagues to warn them about me after they were discharged from the hospital.”

Asahi remained silent as they stepped off the escalator and headed into the men’s section in one of the nicer stores. He gently dismissed the shop keep with a little ‘just browsing’ nod and then parked himself in front of a rack of clothes. Noya settled in as well, eyeing a bunch of hats on display. Hats. That one had a feather. He kind of wanted it.

Asahi absently leafed through a few shirts before giving Noya a sad look. Noya caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“So in junior high… you were lonely?” Asahi asked hesitantly, tugging a shirt off the rack. Probably just to use it as a prop during the awkward conversation.

Noya snorted and flashed Asahi a grin. “Definitely not. I loved my team, I loved the friends I had, people liked me and I liked them. I just… talked too much about stuff no one else was interested in, got crazy fixated on things... Some guys thought I was weird, maybe, but we still hung out. They’d just all groan if someone ‘got me started’ on something, whatever that meant. But I was also practicing all the time. Every free moment I had. So I didn’t really have time to do much else. Especially after I won that award.” He made a face. “Shouldn’t have gotten it. There was this other guy at Nanbo who was just – the receives he could get. Guy was like a snake! Or a mongoose – like a jet-propelled Jesus lizard. I got to see him live once and—man. I would’ve loved to play against him in a match. But winning awards… all it really does is make people want to knock you down a peg. I don’t mind competition and it’s nice to be recognized for your work, but…” He frowned and scratched his head, staring at a plaid shirt to keep from getting flustered. “I’d rather it be on a personal level, you know? Like when Ryū gets all emotional… it’s embarrassing but it’s… it makes me feel special. Some guy doling out plaques… all he’s looking at is numbers. My stats. Watching videos of me. He doesn’t know me, couldn’t pick me out of a lineup. So awards and things like that… they make me feel grateful but… distant. I guess that’s… that’s pretty much the only time I felt alone. When I went up on stage and got that award and the rest of my team was three feet below me. Didn’t really like that.”

Asahi listened patiently, his browsing obviously put on hold. His lips were pressed in a thin, serious line, and the moment Noya was done speaking he said in his quiet voice, “You deserved that award. You deserve recognition, Nishinoya – you’re a genius player—”

“Ah – no, see, this is what I was afraid would happen,” Noya said quickly, picking up a random shirt and thrusting it at Asahi. “Here just – look at clothes, please. I don’t need someone to kiss my butt and tell me I’m good at keeping a ball from hitting the floor.”

Asahi made a frustrated noise but took the shirt.

“You’re horrible at accepting compliments. I’m not saying that to be mean, just – expressing. Myself.”

“Oh my god – you of all people should not have the right to say that,” Noya said, ducking into another aisle of clothes. “I accept them just fine. I know I’m good, I think I have a realistic gauge of my abilities versus, you know. Other people’s abilities and the constraints of physics. I appreciate you being kind, but it’s embarrassing being praised by my ace in the middle of a high-end clothing store.”

Asahi glanced around and then raised an eyebrow.

“I—I don’t know if the racks of clothes are obstructing your view, but there’s really no one else around—”

“I can see just fine—it’s still embarrassing!”

Noya ran a hand over his face, trying to calm down. Dammit, why did Asahi have to look so intense at the worst possible times… 

“…Well I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Noya heard Asahi mumble. He looked over at the other boy. Asahi was twisting the shirt in his large hands, his face slightly pale.

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” Noya said quietly, halfheartedly looking at a sweatshirt. “It’s kinda nice when you pay attention to me. Or get all defensive or… angry on my behalf. Or whatever. Pretty sure there’s not a person alive who doesn’t like… Feelin’. Valued.”

He cleared his throat and lightly fingered the sweatshirt. Fuck this was awkward. He could feel Asahi staring at him with a really… really intense gaze. All focused, like Noya’s state of flusterdom was all he cared about. Clothes could have come to life and started singing Disney songs and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“….Nishinoya—”

“So, uh – you need a sweatshirt?” Noya said quickly, tugging the thing off the rack and holding it out towards Asahi. “’Cause – look, here’s one. It’s blue.”

“It’s also an extra small,” Asahi quietly pointed out. “Nishinoya –”

“They’ve probably got some in your size too,” Noya said, flinging the too-small sweatshirt over his shoulder and rifling through the clothes. “Blue’s a color, right? A good one, I mean. What’re you shopping for anyway?”

“A hiking trip. Nishinoya—”

“Oh, with your brother? The wilderness guy?”

“No, with some guy at the rock-climbing center who asked me out. Nishinoya can you just – please hold still for a second?”

Noya did. He fell quite still, his hand wrapped around a sweatshirt.

Asahi let out a little breath. “Thanks. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but—”

“So this is for a date?”

Noya heard Asahi falter, his shoes stuttering against the hardwood floor.

“…Well… a test date. Sort of. I guess.” Asahi laughed. It was an incredibly relieved noise. “That’s—really. Really weird to say aloud. Sorry.”

“So your mom doesn’t know?”

Noya started rifling through the clothes again. He felt like he had to move. Had to do something, his skin was crawling and he was fairly sure he’d lost his appetite for the next twenty years. Didn’t do something, might puke. All over the three thousand yen sweatshirts. Who the hell would pay three thousand yen for a cotton sweatshirt. It didn’t even have an exciting design on it. Just the blue.

“She sort of does. She suspects, I think… I dunno. Takeshi’s probably filled her head with ideas. Correct ones, but –” Asahi paused. “…Nishinoya?” 

“Yup,” Noya said brightly, tugging an extra large sweatshirt away from its smaller twins. “You really like saying my name today, huh. Here. This size might fit you.” He turned to toss it at Asahi and then moved to sweaters. Those were warm, right. Perfect for early spring hikes wherever. With some guy at the rock climbing place. 

Noya shoved his hands in his pockets when he realized they were trembling. That was fine. Eyes were good for looking at sweaters. Enough. Didn’t need hands. Hands were overrated. 

He felt Asahi approach and he took a tiny step away.

Asahi immediately stopped.

“…I—I thought… it didn’t freak you out,” he said timidly. “If it bothers you, I don’t have to talk about anything related to – that. Facet of my personality or… identity. I’m used to hiding it.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“…That’d be slightly more convincing if you’d actually look at me.”

The isolation in Asahi’s voice made Noya finally glance up from the sweaters. Asahi looked like he was a light breeze away from completely falling apart. His large frame was trembling, eyes darting around like a trapped rabbit’s. Remarkably adolescent. A nervous desperation took hold of Noya – the same kind he imagine he’d feel if he stumbled upon a drowning man. The urge to rectify, no matter what.

“It really doesn’t,” he insisted, forcing brightness into his voice. “Not – Asahi, I don’t care if you’re… that. Uh. If you’re g… gay.” He winced. “Probably shouldn’t stumble over that word.”

“Probably shouldn’t,” Asahi mumbled, still clutching the sweatshirt against his chest. “I don’t mean to just… throw my, um… lifestyle in your face or anything—”

“You’re not,” Noya said. “Okay you’re – you’re not. Just like how you’re not annoying me when you call me at night or overstepping your bounds asking me about my tragic junior high past that’s actually just – well, it’s mundane. Yours really wasn’t mundane what with the scandalous affair with your captain and sneaking around being gay and like fourteen which is. It’s a little weird and kind of… I guess out of the normal stereotype of prepubescent life or whatever but at least you knew then and you seem to know now. Even if you hide it or—or apologize too much for just. Liking things.”

He heard Ryū’s voice in his head, yelling at him to just say it. Ask, you idiot. Ask how Asahi knew, ask if he thought you were, ask something you cowardly fucknugget time is running out.

“Asahi I think I’m bi.”

Noya immediately clamped his hands over his mouth to keep from cursing. 

Shit. Okay shit, shit why had he said it?! Why had he actually said it?! How much power did Ryū and guilt have over his subconscious?!

Asahi blinked his soft, brown eyes. Very slowly.

“…I’m sorry?”

Noya stared up at Asahi from over his fingers, a cowardly part of him wanting to run away.

“…I said. I think I’m. Bi,” he said weakly. “That’s… that’s the one where you like both, right?”

“…Yeah. I… I think so.”

“Yeah. I’m. I think I’m that.”

Noya lowered his hands and shoved them into his pockets again.

“…Kind of terrifying to say,” he finally said with a little laugh when it seemed like all Asahi was going to do was stand there looking at him in shock. “So some… some sort of encouragement, or—”

“How do you know?” Asahi finally asked. His voice was like a slowly-deflating balloon. “I—is it ‘cause I… I kissed you?”

“What – no! No, god – well. Kind of. They seem to be related on a… a revelation level,” Noya admitted, warily eyeing two other guys who were wandering into their section. They’d been in Ishida’s group. Two of the faces he hadn’t recognized. Thankfully they seemed too into their own conversation to notice them.

“Oh.”

Asahi sounded like he was going to faint.

“Oh. Oh, Nishinoya, I’m so—”

“You didn’t wire my brain, Asahi,” Noya said, slinking a bit further away from the other guys, who were talking in loud, abrasive voices. “Unless you’re personally in charge of my genetics or upbringing or – whatever. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I mean, yeah you probably should’ve asked before you kissed me, but that’s. That’s a different. Issue. I think.”

A heavy silence settled between them, tempered only by the loud snickering from the other two guys. Noya caught snippets of their conversation. Date had been a total waste of money. He'd bought dinner last time. Movie tickets too. She'd bought the popcorn but what was that, twelve hundred yen? What a bitch, man, you really shouldn't bother with high school girls. Wouldn’t even put out.

"Sounds like she wasted twelve hundred yen. She should try to get a refund," Noya muttered to himself, grabbing a shirt to try on. That’s what you did in stores, right. Try shit on and eavesdrop.

He heard Asahi laugh, and for one paranoid moment Noya thought he was laughing at him. But when he gave Asahi a questioning look the other boy just smiled in an unsure way and said softly, "You're funny. I'm working under the assumption that it's on purpose."

"Oh. Yeah, I... most of the time," Noya said, picking up one of the blue sweatshirts for himself. They were soft and he felt weird and kind of vulnerable. Like a grape on a supermarket floor. A thick layer of dark blue cotton would help. For some reason.

"Asahi, I'm gonna go try these on," he said, gesturing to the clothes. 

Asahi nodded and held up the small pile he'd accumulated while Noya had been spacing out. "I'll join you." 

Asahi's cheeks immediately reddened.

"Not in the same ro –"

"You don't have to clarify stuff like that, Asahi. I think it's assumed we won't be changing together," Noya said, a bit harsher than he’d intended. The guys on the other side of the store burst into laughter. Presumably unrelated. They were leaning in and whispering. Noya's least favorite posture a human could assume. Sneaky jerk posture.

With a heavy scowl Noya headed into one of the changing rooms, tugging the cloth across the entryway. He sat down on the little bench next to the mirror and let out a slow breath. He was so on edge he may as well be rock climbing, dangling by his fingertips. Emotional rock climbing. Not actual rock climbing, which apparently Asahi did enough to know some guy there. Some guy there who was also gay and obviously interested in him and had asked him out. The miracle here being that Asahi had said yes.

Maybe not such a miracle since Asahi apparently had a thing for guys who were older than him. Upperclassman. Guy working at a gym.

Noya rested his chin in his heads, listening to the rustling sounds in the room next to his. Asahi getting changed. Like he'd seen a hundred times in the club room, the locker rooms before matches. Totally okay to be in the same room then. The teammate part of Noya's brain objected to the wall between them now.

The part of him that had blurted out his only secret wished the wall was made of something more substantial than plywood.

The rustling next door stopped.

“…Nishinoya? Are you dead?”

“Of course not,” Noya said, tugging off his shirt and tossing it on the floor. “That’d be some kind of record. What’s up?”

“You were quiet.”

“Oh. Sorry, I’ll make noise so you know I haven’t died in the middle of the department store.”

Noya pulled on the sweater and glanced at himself in the mirror. Smallest size. Still kind of baggy on him.

“You can be quiet if you need to.”

Noya paused in the middle of tugging on his bangs.

“…Okay?”

“There’s this thing.”

Asahi’s voice sounded like it was coming through the wooden wall between them instead of above the divide. Through the dark knot right in the middle.

Noya leaned against the wall, his ear next to the knot. He glanced up at the florescent lights, squinting his eyes against the glare.

“What thing’s that, Asahi?”

“It’s… I don’t remember where I heard it. It’s called pressure of speech or… something along those lines.’” 

Asahi’s low voice made the plywood shake. A little earthquake two centimeters deep.

“Some people can’t stand silence. They talk just to fill the void. When I’m upset that happens sometimes. I get so worked up… sometimes I say the same word over and over trying to get out everything that’s in my head. Even if it’s just one, horrible word. But if you want to be quiet you can. If you want me to leave you alone and go be somewhere else for a while… I won’t be upset.”

Asahi let out a soft breath.

“In other words, I’m trying to give you an out, Nishinoya. If you don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the station department store or… ever. That’s fine. I’m not the authority on this stuff. I barely know what I’m—”

“Three minutes should be good,” Noya said, letting his eyes slip shut. “Maybe you could go look at jeans or something?”

“I need jeans,” Asahi said immediately, his voice tinged with relief. “Several. Three… three minutes of browsing’s worth of jeans. If that’s enough… jeans… for you.”

Noya felt himself grin, and after a moment he hopped up on the bench and propped his chin on the barrier, looking down into Asahi’s cubicle. The other boy stared up at him, blinking his dark eyes.

“Three minutes, then come back,” Noya instructed. “I really don’t want to talk with Chuckles McGee and his henchman snickering up a storm over there, so we’ll have to go someplace else. Some place with ice cream or – or crepes. Maybe.” He lifted his head to look out into the store, glad that the two guys were still being all bitchy-bitchy with one another, occasionally letting out huge snorts of laughter and bolstering the other one’s ego with ‘yeah, you’re totally right’ or ‘fuck, man, I know! Shit sucks!’ The store clerk stared at them with a disdainful look on her face before glancing Noya’s way. He ducked down before he was spotted and yelled at. 

He lightly rapped his knuckles against the wall. Three quick taps.

“You get that, Asahi?”

“Nishinoya recovery time, then sugar and carbohydrates. Confirm?”

“Got it in one,” Noya said quietly, biting his lip to hide his grin from… no one. Like he had something to prove to himself.

He heard Asahi hit his knuckles against the wall, three quick taps, and then the curtain rustled.

Noya sat down on the bench. Silence seeped into his pores second by second, suffocating the anxious energy under his skin. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of people being people on the other side of the plywood and fabric. Talking softly. Shoes clicking against the floor. Strains of classical music pumped through the air, dripping class and prestige over the florescent-lit space. It was calm, like the mountain. Natural and comforting. Alone with hundreds of people scurrying just below his feet. His life, his silence didn’t matter at all to them. It was immensely comforting to be confronted with his own smallness.

Metaphysically speaking.

Three soft taps against the wall.

“Nishinoya.”

Noya opened his eyes and tilted his head back. Asahi was peering down at him from over the barrier, his hair falling in his eyes.

Noya smiled, glad to see him.

“Yup. You get jeans?”

“No. I lied,” Asahi said quietly, sinking back below the level of the wall. “I have lots of jeans.”

Asahi fell silent for a moment and then his deep voice mumbled, “That… that color looks good on you. By the way. The dark – um. Royal? Royal blue. I guess.”

“Really?”

Noya plucked at the sweatshirt, his stomach filling with acid warmth. “Maybe I’ll get it.”

“You should.”

Noya burst out laughing at the quick response. Enough silence. Needed voices again. He tugged off the sweatshirt and tossed it over the barrier. A comedic scuffling noise ensued.

“Wha—God! Nishinoya, you gave me a heart attack!”

“Hold that for me, Asahi,” Noya commanded, quickly getting changed again before ducking out of the changing room. He tugged the curtain of Asahi’s open and grinned up at him. Asahi blinked owlishly back at him, the sweatshirt clutched against his chest.

“…I also didn’t leave you alone for three minutes,” Asahi mumbled, eyes darting off to the side. “Only two.”

“Whatever. I count fast,” Noya said, moving into the room to push Asahi out. He heard the two guys laugh and start doing their whispering again and he resolutely ignored them. Asahi dug his heels in a bit, subtly steering them away towards the sales counter. Noya only caught a few words of the guys’ conversation. More of the same, but it made Asahi’s expression darken.

“…I know this isn’t really feasible, but if you can I’d recommend leaning towards the girl side of things,” Asahi mumbled, heading towards the register. “Guys our age tend to be jerks.”

“You’re my age. You’re not a jerk,” Noya pointed out, plucking the sweatshirt out of Asahi’s arms to set down on the register. Guys our age. Explained Asahi’s propensity to aim up, years-wise.

“…I can be a jerk,” Asahi said quietly, placing his own purchases behind Noya’s. “You don’t need to lie and defend me.”

“Difference between being a jerk and doing jerk things on occasion,” Noya said, handing the cheerful cashier a few bills. 

“…I wouldn’t have thought you’d be one to argue semantics.”

Noya took the bag from the cashier and waited for Asahi to pay.

“I’m not arguing semantics. I’m saying you don’t have a dickish nature,” Noya said patiently, tugging on Asahi’s shirt. “Crepes?”

“But I—… okay. Crepes,” said Asahi, giving up. He followed Noya with a bemused air. Noya made a beeline for the little crepe stand by the station and immediately ordered the one that had the display model with the most cream. He sat back, nibbling on the crepe while he waited for Asahi to make his decision. Banana. Gross.

“Ordering anything that’s not strawberry-based is pretty criminal,” Noya pointed out, sitting down on a bench and lightly kicking the spot next to him.

“Bananas and chocolate is classic. Your palate’s just a bit unrefined,” Asahi said quietly, a small smile on his face.

“You and my mom should get together and talk. You’d have a field day,” Noya grumbled, tearing back the paper on his crepe. He watched the people walking by, mostly girls heading for the crepe stand or the line of accessory shops beyond it.

“Why’d you decide to get these?”

Noya glanced over at Asahi, wrinkling his nose.

“You paused the other day,” he said.

“I paused?”

“Lingered.”

Noya licked his finger.

“In front of the stand.”

“Oh.”

Asahi meticulously peeled back the paper wrapping, his large fingers delicately shredding the pink and white.

“You notice strange things,” he said quietly. “I thought it was just a location change. Emotional French food for an emotional conversation.”

“Blegh.” Noya took an aggressive bite of his crepe, the worms in his stomach protesting the sudden reversal of topic. “I guess I did promise Ryū…”

“Tanaka knows?!”

“Wh—yeah… he knows,” Noya said slowly, unsure where the outburst had come from. 

Asahi ran his fingers through his hair, still looking agitated.

“He knew before me?”

“Yeah – I freaked out about it to him for two seconds in his room.”

“…And – he. I mean you’re still… you’re still friends?”

“Of course,” Noya said firmly, ripping a chunk out of his crepe. “You act weird about Ryū.”

“Wh—No I don’t,” Asahi protested weakly.

Noya gave Asahi a little grin.

“’Cause he’s aiming to be the next ace? Feel the pressure?”

“No – Tananka would be a good ace. That’s not it,” Asahi mumbled, staring at the ground. Noya followed his gaze. Not much to see. Mostly pigeon poop and bricks. 

Asahi picked at the crunchy edge of the crepe. “So does anyone else know?”

“Just him. Well… him and you now. And me. Obviously. I know.” Noya furrowed his brow. “…At least I think I know.”

“It’s like that at first,” Asahi said quietly, his gaze fixed on the crepe in his hands. Uneaten save for two bites. “Lots of denial. Trying to stick yourself in… in a definition, I guess. So you know how to explain it to other people. I didn’t really know for sure myself until I… uh.” His cheeks colored slightly. “…Until I had another guy’s. Lips. On my mouth.”

Noya stared at Asahi, not sure what to make of that.

“…Gay Asahi sounds kind of. Fictional.”

“Fictional?”

“Yeah. Like I can’t picture the Asahi I know with another guy’s tongue down his throat.”

“It wasn’t – I was fourteen, there were no throats involved! But it definitely happened. I have the mental scarring to prove it. I really wasn’t emotionally ready for—”

“Tongues?”

“What – god, there weren’t – y-yeah, maybe a little, but—”

“No tongue when you kissed me, though,” Noya pointed out, looking askance at Asahi as he took a bite of his crepe.

Asahi opened his mouth to reply, but then an odd look crossed his face. He met Noya’s gaze, his eyes narrowing.

“…Did you expect there to be?”

Noya pursed his lips, not falling for the bait.

“Now that I know you’re experienced, yeah, sort of,” he said lightly.

“It was a two second thing,” Asahi muttered. “Not time for anything—”

“Anything good?”

Asahi paused.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“What were you going to say?”

“…anything. Involved.”

“Time and proximity to teammates.” Noya tugged a knee against his chest. “And fighting.”

“Fighting. Right.”

Asahi nibbled at his crepe, his eyes distant. Noya had the feeling he could replace the food with a stack of paper towels and Asahi would keep on eating. 

Noya crumpled up his empty wrapper and shoved it in his pocket, licking whipped cream off his lips. He propped his chin on his knee, watching the people again in silence before he bumped his shoulder against Asahi’s.

“You’re not going to tell the team?”

“About?”

Noya raised an eyebrow and Asahi made a little ‘oh.’ Asahi shook his head and Noya frowned.

“Why?”

“…As far as I’m concerned, at this point the only people who need to know are me and whomever I do stuff with.”

“Like a boyfriend.”

“Like – yeah. Like a boyfriend. I guess.”

“And everyone else will just have to deal with only knowing parts of you?”

“Knowing most of me,” Asahi corrected, fixing Noya with a wary look. “Who I want to – to do stuff with is a small fraction. I don’t even have a steady boyfriend…” His eyes suddenly widened and he leaned in.

“Are you – you’re going to tell people?” he asked frantically.

“What? No! Asahi, I’m not going to out you to everyone—”

“About you.”

“Oh.”

Noya rubbed the back of his neck and then shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll come up,” he finally said. “I like girls too and that’s what conversation’s usually about. Don’t have to fake it. “

“But if it does?” Asahi pressed. “It’s easy to slip up and—”

“Even if I tell them about me – which I’m not planning to – they aren’t going to find out about you, necessarily,” Noya said, pitching his voice a hair quieter as a group of girls from their high school passed by. “There might be rumors but the only one who even knows we hang out is Ryū.”

“And Suga and Daichi.”

“And Suga and Daichi. Our friends,” Noya insisted. “And that’s like half the team.” He paused, struck by realization. “…Maybe I should just tell—”

“Nishinoya, please don’t,” Asahi said quietly, his voice strained. “I—I’m putting a lot of trust in you with this. I know you like to be open but please… please don’t tell. Isn’t it enough that I know? And Tanaka? You can ask me anything… tell me anything and I’ll help you work through it if you want. Maybe later… if this goes well. You can tell and then I’ll… I’ll do the same.” He lifted his head and caught Noya’s gaze, his expression tinged with a hushed desperation.

“But please, Nishinoya… just for now. Can’t I be enough?”

Noya made a slightly frustrated noise, his brain latching onto the idea of open simplicity. “I really appreciate you trusting me, Asahi, but what if—what if it’s like me helping you learn to ride a bike? And you’re peddling and telling me not to let go, that you trust me, but I know that even if I do let go everything’ll be fine. Maybe even better. Should I still keep holding your hand? That seems so – so dumb. Like keeping emotional training wheels on. You know me, Asahi. Do I seem capable of that? It’s—I know it’s pretty terrifying not being sure what they’ll say. I’m nervous too but there’s two of us – a sixth of the team. We can support each other and—”

“I don’t want my classmates and teachers to know about it, Nishinoya. I don’t want to deal with people at school knowing,” Asahi suddenly snapped, his fingers tightening on his knees. “They’d probably be fine with it; logically I know almost nothing would change except that I’d get another label stuck to me. But I just want to get through high school with as normal a reputation as possible. Although that’s probably a lost cause by now. I’m comfortable with how I am now, I don’t want to risk messing up my last year of school, and I don’t think that’s being selfish. Cowardly, maybe, but what else is new.”

Noya fell silent, watching his ace’s back tremble as Asahi struggled to control his breathing.

After a long moment, Noya shifted over just a bit until his side was pressed against Asahi’s. Cautiously testing the waters. He felt Asahi tense and start to move, but Noya stubbornly moved with him until Asahi realized the futility of retreat. The older boy met his eyes for just a second before he turned to stare at the pedestrians, a guarded look on his face.

“People can see us.”

“We’re just sitting here.”

“Touching.”

“Shoulders.”

Asahi opened his mouth to respond but then just shook his head and opted for silence. They sat quietly for a moment, Asahi picking at his crepe and eating it with zero relish.

“…I get where you’re coming from, Asahi. I really do,” Noya finally said, lifting his head to stare out at the crowd. He lightly bumped his foot against Asahi’s in time with his breathing. “I’m not self-loathing or anything and I feel spineless just saying it but I like things uncomplicated. So at first I kind of… wanted to cut out that part of myself just so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. Like in that one Indiana Jones movie. Where the guy reaches into the dude’s chest and yanks out his heart. I flipped out at that scene as a kid. Full blown panic attack. Dad made fake plane tickets to 'The Amazon' and left them on the counter just to freak me out – not important. But now... now, I dunno. If there were some guy who could just BAM yank my liking of things out of my head... I don’t think I’d take him up on the offer. But you’re right. It’s not selfish to want to fit in. I don’t really have that goal myself but I can respect it. I don’t think it’s wrong to want to be a private person and enjoy your life on your own. I’m just… concerned about your motivations for doing so. I guess. I like showing off my teammates and proving to everyone how great they are, every aspect of them. And that includes you, Asahi. But like I said. I can respect your wishes. I’d… I’d be a pretty shitty teammate if I didn’t.”

Asahi remained silent, nudging his crepe towards an excited pigeon. The bird went absolutely nuts, and in a few moments the crepe had vanished.

“I know I’m in no position to give you advice considering what I just asked of you, but… just for the record, you can’t cut it out of you. And you shouldn’t believe anyone who makes you feel like you should,” Asahi said finally, his expression troubled. “Once that first thought sets in its roots grow deep quickly. Because… because your brain was made for those roots. They’re there to fill in the gaps, or… or something a little less… abstract. You know what I’m trying to – m-maybe you don’t.” He made a frustrated noise and scrubbed at his face. “Sorry. I know I’m not… I’m really terrible at being eloquent when it comes to this stuff. I don’t mean to preach at you, but it— I had no one to talk to but my upperclassman and he… I don’t think the things he told me were always for my benefit. I wish I could have realized it faster. It would’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights.”

Noya laughed, and when Asahi gave him a rather hurt look Noya quickly explained, “Now you’re just free to worry about other stuff. That’s all.”

“Ah. Yeah, that’s true,” Asahi said, a weak smile on his face. “Other emotional curveballs to throw you at three in the morning.”

Noya just laughed quietly, falling silent after. He watched the crowd change from high schoolers to college students, to proper adults. Aging as the shadows grew longer. The noise of the station curled around them, a knit muffler with holes rent open by the steady rhythm of the trains. Noya propped his chin on his knees, the spring sun’s warmth setting into his bones. Comforting.

“Hey, Asahi?”

“Yeah?”

“You feel that… that thing?”

“Thing. You mean the sun?”

“No not the sun. I know what that’s called. I mean that… that speech pressure thing you said you have. When things get quiet and you’ve been upset.”

Another train passed, wheels thudding over the uneven joinery in the elevated tracks. Its insides were all lit up, casting its passengers into dark silhouettes against the windows.

“…No,” said Asahi. The word fell slowly from his lips, as though he were loathe to release it. Wondering at its veracity, maybe. “No. Nothing like that.”

He moved just a bit closer to Noya until their knees bumped together. A soft apology, nearly swallowed up by the trains. Noya ducked his head, his ribs tightening vice-like around his lungs. He recognized the stillness, the way Asahi’s chest hitched as he breathed. He tried to play it cool while he scratched his knee, needing to check and make sure it was still there and not just the bundle of static it felt like after Asahi had touched it.

“No? Maybe you’re cured.”

“Yes, I’m sure the remedy for anxious behavior is a heavy dose of sugar and being kind to local pests.”

“I can’t believe you gave your food to that bird. I was sitting right here.”

“You’d just eaten your weight in whipped cream and you went on and on about how bananas are awful. I didn’t think you’d want it.”

“Asahi, if it’s food that appeals to the palate of your average diabetic, I want it.”

Asahi laughed, pressing a hand against his face. Noya watched him out of the corner of his eye, lungs struggling against his ribs. Asahi looked so young when he laughed. Possessed again by whatever god of fleeting contentment lurked in the shrine at the top of the mountain. The timid man swallowed up so quickly by the boy that Noya knew from the court. Asahi always seemed to be tottering on the edge of one or the other. 

Noya liked the boy a lot more.

Asahi let out a little breath to calm down, glancing at his watch. 

“You really should try and eat better, Nishinoya,” he said, standing up. Noya followed suit, finding himself clinging a bit to Asahi’s side.

“Yeah? I think I do okay.”

“Suga tattles.”

“Dammit.”

Asahi just shook his head and turned his steps towards the station. Noya walked after him, lightly swinging the bag with his sweater in it.

“I’m sorry we didn’t really finish our talk in a satisfying way.”

“What?” Noya glanced up to meet Asahi’s apologetic eyes. Noya quickly waved a hand. “It’s fine. It’s – what else is there to talk about? We have each other in this – well, each other and Ryū. Although thanks for just believing me and not asking a bunch of awkward questions. I guess that’s all there’s really left to say.”

“I’ve found that interrogation generally isn’t the best way to get to know someone,” Asahi said quietly. “Although the other way does take more patience. Which… ah.” He stopped in front of his platform entrance, giving Noya a weak smile. “Thank you for yours. I know it’s not your strong suit.”

“It’s not,” Noya readily admitted, wrinkling his nose. “But you’re welcome. So, ah.”

He paused, his stomach turning to lead for some reason as Asahi looked at his watch again. He remembered why a second before Asahi spoke.

“I need to get going. Have to get up early for the hike tomorrow and then the train for camp leaves the next day.” Asahi sighed. “I don’t know when I’m going to get my homework done...”

“Ah… right. Your date.” Noya rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re still going on that, huh.”

“I –… I don’t think I ever suggested I wasn’t?” Asahi said slowly.

“Yeah – yeah, you didn’t.”

Just wishful thinking on his part, then.

Noya plastered a grin on his face and socked Asahi in the arm.

“Well go get ‘em, champ. Where you guys headed, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Asahi said, rubbing his arm. “Takahara has some trails he apparently hikes all the time. I’m deferring to his judgment.”

“So no chance I can track you guys via satellite? Just to make sure he’s not planning to push you off a cliff or something.”

“Well if he wanted to off me via a long drop and a sudden stop, he’s had ample opportunity before,” Asahi said thoughtfully, lightly rubbing his chin. “I think I’ll be okay.” His lips quirked up in a little smile and he leaned down just a bit, catching Noya’s eyes. “Are you worried about me, Nishinoya?”

The directness of the question made Noya’s stomach jump. He scowled a bit and rubbed the back of his head, mumbling, “Well you’re just… insecure about this whole thing. I don’t want him to be weird or something and have you doubt yourself even more.”

“Ah.”

Asahi shrugged his broad shoulders, his smile turning a bit sad.

“You’re right. I’m not really a poster-child for… this,” he said, pitching his voice lower. “It’s been hard trying to work through this stuff on my own. But today…” He let out a little breath and then reach out to lightly brush his hand against Noya’s. Noya nearly jumped out of his skin. He lifted his head to meet Asahi’s eyes, feeling his cheeks start to color.

“…Yeah?” he prompted quietly, unable to tear his gaze away. Asahi was so close he could practically count his eyelashes. There was a little scar on Asahi’s upper lip he’d never noticed before. He found himself leaning in. Leaning up. The smell of the mountain overwhelming him. Cedar and rain, moss coating the sides of trees. The rest of the station’s inhabitants bled into the background until all that was left were the trains above, their wheels scraping slow-motion against the tracks. And Asahi was so close, so close Noya could see his chest move as he breathed. Trace the bloody split in his lip from where he worried at the flesh. Large, dark eyes fixed on his, brightened with a flash of resolve. Noya’s hand moved on its own, moved to grab Asahi’s arm to keep him there before everything started to move again and the silken idea threading its way through his veins snapped.

“…Today was really good.” 

Asahi’s voice brought the station back to life. 

The thread snapped.

Noya nearly staggered back, disoriented.

“Y-Yeah?” he stammered, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at a point over Asahi’s shoulder. “That’s – good. I’m glad.”

Asahi nodded, checking his watch again. “Talking with you, I—I think…” He worried at his lip. “…It felt really. Freeing. Even more than when I just told you. Having someone who understands, is… I didn’t think I would get that in a teammate so close to me. So maybe… m-maybe I will tell Daichi and Suga. Soon.”

“Soon’s good,” Noya said, something dark inside his gut twisting when Asahi didn’t look up from his watch. Pay attention. They weren’t going to see each other tomorrow; Asahi was going to be hiking with someone else. In the mountains with someone else, why the hell was his watch suddenly so interesting. Pay attention.

The tracks overhead rumbled. Asahi glanced up at the ceiling, a worried look on his face.

“Shit – shoot, I think that’s my train,” he said, giving Noya an absent smile. “See you day after tomorrow. Thanks again, Nishinoya.”

“Yeah – yeah, see you,” Noya said quickly, the words tumbling past his lips and hitting Asahi’s back as the older boy jogged away. Noya twisted the plastic bag between his fingers, staring at the stairwell entrance through which Asahi had disappeared.

“Go with me instead.”

He heard himself say the words. They rang through his skull. Hurt to listen to they were so pathetic. Said too late, lacking conviction. If his life had been a movie or a drama Asahi would have somehow heard him still over the din of the station. There’d be more script after. Something that wasn’t just a dull monologue in his head. He wouldn’t be left standing there in the middle of a crowd of strangers, feeling vaguely lame and wondering if it was morally wrong to wish that all college-aged guys with the surname Takahashi would simultaneously twist their ankles in a freak, Takahashi-focused accident.

Noya rubbed a hand over his face and turned to head to his own platform. He stood on the very edge of the safe zone, toes curling against the yellow bumps under his shoes. An express train rushed by, the wind tugging at his hair. He caught a glimpse of his expression in the windows flashing past. He looked young. Way too young. Kind of scared and small. Eyes too big, skin too pale, hair pushed back childishly off his forehead.

“Ah, dammit,” he heard himself say. “Dammit – dammit stop talking. Just—fuck. Fuck it, I feel sick. I hate this I really – really. Fuckin’ hate this.” He rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers trembling a bit. Pressure of speech when alone. Either Asahi was rubbing off on him or something else was changing. Because apparently.

Apparently.

He wasn’t Just Noya anymore.

*

His favorite spot on the train had been taken. 

Noya held onto the suspended handles above his head, doing his best not to wince whenever he was jostled. Which was every few seconds. Nothing like being just as tall as someone’s armpit. Made for very exhilarating train rides.

When they finally reached his stop, he had to squeeze his way past an entire throng of people, explaining in very plain language to a woman with a gigantic baby stroller why she had to get off first unless she wanted him to climb over her screaming infant. Please and thank you.

The platform was flooded with commuters. Noya let himself be swept along to the barrier, so out of it he nearly forgot to tap his pass against the reader. The street lights were lit, and from the corner stall he could smell the deep, rich aroma of the bowls of ramen broth, just on the other side of the fabric overhang. Wasn’t Asahi’s favorite food ramen? Maybe that’s what they should do next time. Look up the best place around and go see if it was worth its salt. Or they could go to a batting cage. Asahi would probably be crazy intimidated at first and then turn out to be a natural batter. Or bowling, or there was that café that had the owls in it you could pet, or

Or.

Maybe he should stop trying to dictate what they did.

Noya let out a little groan and all but bolted for his street. Home. Home, home, he needed to get home where there were distractions and television and parents to yell at him about unimportant stuff like his homework and his ever-narrowing career path.

The playground across the street was empty. Noya glanced at it over his shoulder as he opened the gate. Maybe he could take Taka on the swings. Any excuse to run around on the rusty pieces of junk.

He pushed open the front door and kicked off his shoes.

“Dad? I’m ho—”

He knew those bright yellow shoes.

Oh shit.

Noya crouched down to straighten out his own shoes before his mother tore him a new one and then tiptoed into the kitchen. The living room was dark, save for the TV. It was playing an old episode of that pirate cartoon. His brother and sister didn’t so much as twitch, both focused on the screen.

“Ah—Ryūtan, this is the part!” Suzu said excitedly, sitting up and gesturing wildly at the television. “See? See he gets this power and then decides to name his attack right away even though it’s so dumb! Look how long his neck is!”

“Yeah, kiddo, that’s pretty funny—”

“But even though he’s the best of the bad guys he’s still a bad guy, so you know he’s not gonna win. I don’t want you to get too attached.”

“Promise, no attachments to this or any other character. Although what’re you talkin’ about, best of the bad guys. That one guy made of smoke is way cooler.”

“He’s not a bad guy! He’s a Marine—oh!”

Noya flinched when his little sister spotted him. He tried to duck into the kitchen. Little good it did. Damn open floor plan. He thought briefly about stuffing himself in the fridge, but before he could move the figure on the couch turned around and fixed him with an unimpressed look.

“…Yo, Noya. Pardon the intrusion.”

Noya cracked a weak smile and busied himself with getting a glass of water.

“Hey, Ryū. Thanks for lookin’ after them.”

“No worries. Your parents went t’ go get takeout. They’ll be back in a bit.”

There was an edge to Ryū's voice that made Noya feel incredibly uneasy.

“Takeout?”

“From that Hamburg steak place. Your mom invited me to stay, so. Hope that’s alright.”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t it b—”

“Hey, Suz’, Taka. You guys mind watchin’ this upstairs?”

Taka pushed himself up off the floor, staring worriedly at Ryū before padding over to his brother’s side. He tugged on his sleeve. Noya crouched down just a bit, and Taka whispered softly, “Ryūnosuke came over looking for you. He’s worried, so try to be nice.”

“Worried?” Noya echoed, standing up straight again. “Why the hel—heck would he be—”

“Your phone. Dumbass.”

Taka jumped at the harsh tone, and stared worriedly up at Ryū, who had moved to stand on the other side of the counter. Suzu quickly darted into the kitchen, grabbing her younger brother by the arm and tugging him to the stairs. Noya watched them go, listening to the two argue quietly about whether it was better to leave him alone or not. He fiddled with his empty glass, guilt slowly welling up in his chest. He waited until he heard the upstairs door close, and then opened his mouth to apologize. 

Ryū didn’t give him a chance.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” he said sharply. “Who the fuck turns off their phone in the middle of a conversation like that?! Huh?!”

“Conversation like – it’s not like I was under heavy fire or dodgin’ grenades or anythin’,” Noya protested. “Just emotional shit—”

“Important emotional shit! That has to do with the guy who fuckin’ kissed you without, y’know, checkin’ to see if it’s okay or anythin’! With that guy right fuckin’ next to you!” Ryū snapped. “God – so, what, he make you turn it off or somethin’?”

Noya blinked.

“…What?”

“Asahi.” Ryū crossed his arms over his chest, a heavy scowl on his face. “He make you turn off your phone? ‘Cause you’ve never fuckin’ done that to me before when I’m tryin’ to talk to you. Not once.”

Noya felt a surge of anger throttle the perfectly reasonable sentence he’d put together.

“Asahi would never do that,” he snapped. “Don’t fuckin’ bring him into this.”

Ryū fell silent, his eyes narrowing. He studied Noya for a bit and then looked away.

“Great. So that means you cut me off on your own. Fuckin’ – perfect.”

Noya ran his fingers through his hair in agitation.

“Ryū – c’mon, what’s the big deal? You didn’t have to come all the way to my house—”

“I’m worried about you, man!” Ryū suddenly exploded. “You’re actin’ so fuckin’ off! After you freaked out about – y’know, that thing – I started lookin’ up some shit. And there’s like – there’s warnin’ signs and… I know you’d never do anythin’ drastic but fuck – just. Okay?”

"Warnin' signs —what the hell are you talkin'—"

Noya's eyes widened and he stared at Ryū in shock for a moment before he groaned.

"Ryū... god, I'm not gonna off myself or anythin'. I'm fine with it."

"Fine with —well sorry for bein' concerned, then," Ryū muttered, clicking his tongue in irritation. "Last I knew you were curled up in a little ball on my floor freakin' the fuck out over it. How was I supposed to know —when did. So it's not an issue anymore?"

"I mean... if I think about it too much I still get a little like... not weirded out but more like. Surprised, I guess?" Noya got himself another glass of water, glad that Ryū seemed to be done yelling. When he tried to be scary, Ryū was about as intimidating as a newborn emu. It was when he got all intense that Noya started to get nervous. "Talkin' things over with Asahi has been helpin'. Seein' how nervous he is about his own situation makes me feel weirdly braver."

"Glad your blossomin' friendship's provin' to be a lucrative investment," Ryū muttered, but then his eyes widened. "Wait —you actually talked with him?! You listened to me?!"

"What—yeah, dude. Of course," Noya said slowly, relieved that the conversation seemed to be quickly heading uphill. "Sorry it took so long. I was scared and then disinterested and then forgot – you know how it goes with me.”

"Yeah... Yeah, I do," Ryū said absently, scratching at his head. His lips twitched up in a little smile. "So it helped?"

"Lots," Noya said firmly, moving into the living room to sit down on the couch. "Well more like...the moment I blurted it out I realized how stupid I sounded. But then Asahi went all helicopter-upperclassman on me and kept reassurin' me I didn't have to talk about it..." He rolled his glass between his hands, aware he was smiling like an idiot but his muscles weren't obeying him. "I dunno. It was kinda nice. And I really am sorry I freaked you out. I just… kind of needed to be alone, I guess. To focus on what Asahi was sayin’.”

"Asahi to the emotional rescue, huh. Seems to be happenin’ a lot these days," Ryū said dryly, sitting down next to Noya. “But whatever. You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again, please. My fragile maiden heart can’t take the stress.” He propped his feet up on the coffee table, wiggling his toes. Noya bumped his foot against his friend's, giving him a questioning look.

"What's with the tone?"

"The tone? Oh. Eh." Ryū waved a hand. "Nothin'. Bad day. Restaurant was a mess, got hot soup spilled on me. Not really a fan of first degree burns, yadda yadda." He grabbed the remote and flipped the TV over to a variety show. "So you doin' stuff with Asahi tomorrow, too?"

"Nah, not tomorrow," Noya said, setting his glass down and popping his back. 

"You're shittin' me. A day off with no Asahi? What happened?"

"I spend time not with him, too," Noya grumbled.

"Like when?"

"Like now."

"Okay, and?"

"And. Tomorrow."

Ryū groaned but then let out a little snort and shrugged his shoulders. "So you need a break from him or somethin'? Suga makes it sound like he can get kinda drainin' sometimes. Just accordin' to Suga."

"He's not drainin'," Noya said absently, bumping his foot against Ryū's again. "But no, he's got a date."

"What—Asahi's got a date?!"

"...Yeah?" Noya said slowly, a bemused grin on his face. "Why's that so surprisin'?"

"'Cause —'cause it's Asahi! I thought he'd implode just bein' asked out! And he's all... tall an' scruffy an' shit."

"He's not that timid, y'know. When he gets used to you, you hardly notice the terrified shakin' anymore. And he's not scr—he's a little scruffy. It's an artificially constructed image, anyway."

“I'll take your word for it. So, uh..." Ryū gestured aimlessly for a moment and then leaned in. "So... it's with a guy, yeah?"

Noya raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"...Anyone we know?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"Okay well there goes half my incentive to care about this, but you seem invested and jittery so. Who's it with?"

"Jittery?" 

Noya realized his leg was doing that annoying bouncing thing it did when he'd had too much caffeine to drink. He stilled it immediately. Or tried to.

"Ah, uh. With some guy at a place he rock climbs."

"Asahi does. Rock climbing."

"Yeah." Noya stared at his friend, starting to get a little irritated. "Why are you surprised by everythin’ Asahi does?"

"It's... I dunno." Ryū rubbed his head, frowning slightly. "It's just weird thinkin' about certain people havin' lives outside of the thing you know them for. Like teachers or Tae Kwon Do instructors or teammates I don't hang out with much. I guess. If you'd asked me last year I'dve said very firmly that all our upperclassmen slept in the club room. How else did they get to mornin’ practice so early."

"Well he's got a life," said Noya, staring at his water glass again, a little scowl on his face. "Apparently that life includes creepy older guys askin' him out on dates, but y'know. Whatever."

"Creepy?...Just how old is this guy?"

"Oh. I. I dunno. College-aged," Noya mumbled, his arms starting to feel like lead. It was taking considerable effort to keep his water glass from spilling.

"Okay, so like... two, three years older than Asahi? Who both looks like and comports himself like a middle-aged man?"

"Asahi doesn't act middle aged!"

A look of annoyance flashed across Ryū's face.

"...Y'know, you don't have to jump to his defense every time I say somethin' about him. Maybe just four out of five."

"I wouldn't need to jump to his defense if you'd stop sayin' weird shit about him."

"Weird shit—it's an objective fact that Asahi looks like he should be droppin' his kid off at preschool! It's not bein' mean, it's just... bein' a person with eyes."

"Can't you just throw out some perfunctory apology so I can go back to speculatin’ about what a creep Asahi's date is?" Noya said, his voice tight. And fuck. His leg was shaking again. Arms, too. And there really wasn't any reason he should feel this sick to his stomach. Or sick at all, really.

He could feel Ryū staring at him, and after only a few seconds his irritation boiled over.

"What?!"

"...Dude, are you—... why the hell are you so upset?" Ryū asked slowly.

"I'm not upset," Noya said stubbornly, staring at the TV. "Just worried about Asahi."

"Bullshit."

Noya threw his friend a warning glare, but Ryū's expression didn't so much as splinter. Instead his eyes just narrowed and he leaned in a bit.

“…In that text convo you said you were scared. That’s what freaked me out. I didn’t think you even knew the word.”

“It’s like a kindergartner-level word, Ryū, how dumb d’you think I am,” Noya mumbled, hunkering down into the couch.

“You know what I mean.”

“Apparently I don’t so why don’t you spell it out for me.”

Ryū made a frustrated noise and muted the TV.

“You are absolute shit at hidin’ your emotions, Noya,” Ryū snapped. “You’re not a stoic guy. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if you were ‘cause you seem to have zero interest in actually workin’ through emotional stuff. You’re not interested in why, you don’t have the capacity to reason through anythin’ beyond a ‘pizza tastes delicious’ level of rationalization—”

“Watch it.”

Ryū’s mouth clicked shut.

Noya slowly pushed himself up, setting his water glass down. His hands were shaking so badly the water looked like it should audition for a role in Jurassic Park.

“Look, I know I’m not the most emotionally-aware person out there, but I’m not dumb. I know what I’m doin’. And I said I’m sorry for cuttin’ you off,” he said, tugging at his bangs. “I won’t do it again, so. Let’s talk about somethin’ else. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Maybe finish that dungeon we’re workin’ through?”

Ryū groaned loudly and slumped back against the couch.

“Fine,” he said wearily. “Fine, Noya. You wore me down. I’ll drop it.”

“…Sorry.”

Noya flinched at the word and quickly emended, “I mean, you last longer than most. Resilience and… all that shit.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and then promptly sat on them. Shaking and sweaty. Did he have the flu? The girl at the crepe stand had looked a bit diabolical. Maybe she got her jollies giving people flu-infested whipped cream.

He could feel Ryū staring at him, but in lieu of saying anything else Noya just mashed his toe against the un-mute button on the remote and kept his eyes fixed on the TV. Next to him, Ryū sighed and sat back as well.

“He really is rubbin’ off on you.”

“Just a long day.”

“Yeah, I know spendin’ many hours awake makes me blurt out apologies like it’s my job.”

Noya found his gaze drifting past the TV, focused instead on the door to his room. He wanted to be alone. Really, really wanted to be alone. There was a buzzing in his head, a chocolate-covered espresso bean and the chocolate was quickly melting and when it was gone there’d go his control as well. The last few seconds of calm he had left to actually stop. Process.

“He’ll be okay, right?”

“Who?”

Noya shifted on the sofa and Ryū let out a little ‘ah’ noise. He shrugged. “Asahi loses willpower faster than a Swede hiking through the Amazon, but he knows how to take care of himself. Probably.” Ryū raised an eyebrow and then gently nudged Noya in the ribs. “He’s survived seventeen years without you. I think he’ll be fine.”

Noya nodded, stubbornly reigning back his thoughts when they started to ping against his skull. 

“He’ll be fine,” he echoed, wincing when his voice came out all heavy sounding. Cement shoes around the words. He licked his dry lips and before Ryū could tease him he said more firmly, “He’ll be fine. He’s a grown-ass man. Sometimes. Almost. He’ll be fine.”

“…Yeah,” Ryū said slowly, his eyes shifting to the side to focus on Noya. Noya stubbornly ignored him. A few seconds of painful silence ticked by before Ryū ventured cautiously, “Just a passin’ thought, but. You’ll be fine too. Right?”

“Yeah. ‘Course,” Noya replied automatically, his chest starting to ache. He hit his fist against his ribs and stood, saying quickly, “I’m gonna take a bath—”

“What – wait a sec, Noya—”

“I’m fine, Ryū,” Noya said distractedly, throwing out the words like a shield. “Fine. Just gonna take a bath, then my parents will be home and we can have dinner and shit and then—”

“Noya.”

Noya swallowed heavily, his lips pressed in a thin line as he returned Ryū’s worried gaze. Not good. Not good to go full espresso bean in front of his friend. That wouldn’t do much for his ‘I’m fine’ argument. Which he was.

“…What.”

Ryū hesitated and then slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“Just—… you don’t look so good, man,” he said quietly. “And y’know… I mean, it’s okay to not be fine. Totally a valid option.”

“It’s not, though,” Noya said, tugging at his hair again. “Because there’s no reason to be upset. You’re totally right. Asahi’s been fine without me before. He’s sucked face with an older dude before—”

“Wait, what—”

“—so what if he likes this guy too and they go on like, a hundred dates. Or maybe a thousand. Move to Texas or wherever and get gay thousand dates married—”

“Isn’t Texas the cowboy one? I don’t think—”

“—It’s got jack shit to do with me so there’s no reason to be upset or angry or like I just want to squish his stupid rat face in—”

“Asahi’s? It’s more goat-like, less rat—”

“No, Takahashi’s.”

“Who the fuck is Takahashi.”

“Rock climb.”

“Oh.”

“Squish his stupid rat face in and make him tell me why he asked Asahi out and where he likes to go hikin’ ‘cause maybe that’s it, maybe Asahi just wants to be more outdoorsy and the date’s just a convenient way to do get fresh air so if I invited him out more then Takahashi would become irrelevant—”

“You wanna date Asahi?”

Noya paused mid-breath and stared at Ryū. He rewound his words.

“…No?”

Ryū arched an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay. You just want to interrogate the guy he is goin’ on a date with.”

“…Yeah?”

“Usin’ methods the Geneva Convention frowns on.”

“The what?”

“Torture.”

“Oh. Yeah, I… just light. Torture.”

Noya fell quiet, feeling oddly empty after all of that had left him. His chest tightened again, and he pressed his hand against his sternum. 

“…It hurts,” he said, mystified. “It physically hurts. Like someone hucked a cannonball at my ribcage. What the hell.”

Ryū let out a little breath and reached out to lightly ruffle Noya’s hair.

“Jealousy fuckin’ sucks,” he said sympathetically. “Good thing is, you don’t even know the guy. So you can pretend he’s a total dick or has crazy bad B.O. Or likes to listen to terrible pop music from the early 90s.”

“Those were some bad tunes,” Noya agreed, staring blankly at the wall. “That not might be enough, though.”

“What, Asahi like pop music?”

“He’s neutral towards the genre. Just remarkably tolerant of people’s choices in media consumption.”

“Stand up guy.”

“Yeah. I really like him.”

A thick silence suddenly choked the room. At first Noya wasn’t sure what had caused it. Atmosphere had disintegrated, maybe. Inexplicable deafness. Mass frog extinction. Little fuckers had it coming. Their constant croaking from the backyard made it hard to hear anything else when the windows were open.

But then he realized that Ryū was staring at him strangely. At him. Not at the disintegrated atmosphere. Not at the dead frogs in his backyard.

Noya made the connection moment before Ryū let out a little ‘what’ noise. He turned and stared wide-eyed at his friend, panic taking the reins quite abruptly. Guilt over mind-murdering a bunch of innocent frogs.

Or maybe this was what self-revelation felt like. Clammy. Cold. Kind of nauseating. Frogish.

“I really like him,” he repeated, a frantic energy building up in his chest. Bubbling out from where the cannonball had cracked his ribs. He swallowed heavily. “I really. Really like him. I like. Oh – oh shit. Oh fuckin’… shit! God! Is that it? Is that why I’m that thing? Is that why?!”

“Jealous?” Ryū gingerly supplied.

“Yeah, that – god, I like him?!”

“I don’t know why you keep askin’ me—”

“Because how am I supposed to know?!” Noya said desperately. “No one tells you how to recognize these things! It’s not like skin cancer! There’s pamphlets for that!”

“Pretty sure there’s like, gigabits worth of internet sites that have advice—”

“I have a very small internet presence— I’m not online-savvy like you!”

Noya ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, pacing back and forth so ferociously he could hear the bell next to his grandfather’s shrine in the next room pinging with each step. Ryū was watching him warily, like a zookeeper eyeing a pissy tiger and contemplating a different career path.

“…You’re kinda scarin’ me, man,” Ryū said quietly. “You really feel that wound up about it?”

Noya gently yanked his fingers out of his hair.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice catching. “Yeah. I am, I don’t know why. I can’t stand still, it’s like I’ve got bugs all crawlin’ under my skin. And I’m—”

Miserable.

“—I’m pissed that. That I’m not the one Asahi’s seein’ tomorrow.”

He groaned and plunked down on the floor, flopping backwards. His head narrowly missed the coffee table.

“…Likin’ people sucks.”

“Glad you’re an expert after twenty seconds.”

Ryū sat down next to him, lightly patting his chest.

“But yeah. It can. Does frequently, in fact.”

Noya closed his eyes, grunting softly.

“When doesn’t it?”

“When – ah. Uh…” Ryū laughed awkwardly. “When they like you back, I guess. An’ probably when they’re not datin’ someone else.”

“Yeah.” Noya scrubbed at his face. “Definitely not happy about that.”

Ryū made a sympathetic noise.

“Wanna go to the temple? Make a prayer askin’ the Buddha to bestow the gift of body odor upon Mr. Takahashi?”

“Little early to invoke deities. Even for me.”

Noya opened his eyes when he heard the front door creak. A moment later his mother’s voice rang through the house.

“Taka, Suzu, Ryūnosuke! Is Yū back yet?”

“Here!” Noya called out wearily, pushing himself up. Still all shaky. He stared at his hands, watching his fingers tremble. 

Ria poked her head into the living room, raising an eyebrow at her son.

“Glad we spent all that money on that couch when our children seem to prefer the floor,” she deadpanned, dropping the bag of carryout on the table. “Clear the table, Yū. Would you mind helping me with plates, Ryūnosuke? Mr. Nishinoya got sidetracked by the neighbors.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Nishinoya,” Ryū said quickly, standing up. He bent down just a bit to whisper, “Go wash your face. You look like a plague victim.”

Noya snorted and gave his friend a light shove before standing up. He ignored the impending doom of his mother grilling Ryū about school and headed into the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face and then caught his reflection in the mirror. He really did look like death. Ryū hadn’t earned that shove.

Noya grabbed a towel and scrubbed his face dry, his movements slowly stilling.

He stared at the open bathroom door, at the darkened hallway beyond. He could still hear Ryū and his mother talking. The volume normal enough that they weren’t drowning out the rest of the house.

He let out a slow breath, taking a second to verify the phrase before he threw it out.

“I like Asahi.”

He said the words with as much confidence as he could muster. Better to pick a side now. He tended to default to conviction.

The words rang though the empty room before the bathwater and tile ate them up. But that was all. The household didn’t implode. No one stuck their head in, eyes bugging out. No studio audience gasped in surprise. No grandfather’s ghost wrote menacing fortunes on the foggy mirror. No cheers. No cat calls. No Asahi hiding on the other side of the wall, hand pressed dramatically over his heart with a stricken, torn look on his face. Just the steady plink of the water drops escaping from the leaky faucet. The sound of his father’s voice drifting in through the open window. 

Noya threw his towel at the rack and stepped out of the bathroom. 

So the rest of the universe was indifferent to his revelation at that point. Didn’t matter. It could remain indifferent for all he cared. 

Asahi was right.

Noya’s fingers buried themselves in the fabric of his T-shirt. He could hear his mother and Ryū laughing about something, something not about him. He stopped just before the doorway, needing to be alone for just another moment. 

Once that first thought set in—

Noya bit his cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Fuck… this is kinda excitin’,” he whispered to himself, pressing a hand against his face to stifle a laugh. “Holy shit. Figures. Fuckin’ figures it’d be him… I feel like such a dumbass…”

He gave himself a moment to calm down, then straightened up and stepped into the room. He cast Ryū a rakish grin to let him know he was okay and leaned against the counter. Normal. Everything was still so fucking normal, it was amazing. He greeted his father when he came in, yelled for his siblings to turn off the TV and come downstairs. Like any other night.

But no one knew.

Once that first thought set in, its roots grew deep. Fast. 

He took his place at the table, arguing good-naturedly with Suzu over who got the bigger steak.

Not even Ryū knew all of it.

Finally conceded, promised to help her finish it when she couldn’t, received a kick for his troubles. Taka volunteered half his steak to ease the sibling fight. Ryū teared up dramatically. Noya teased his sister about her pigtails, asking when exactly she’d given up the side ponytail, cut up Taka’s potato for him when he nearly stabbed himself with his chopsticks. Deflected questions from his parents about school, emphasized the importance of teamwork and exercise in growing teens.

Normal.

Not even Ryū knew how unbelievably exhilarated and terrified and content he was. 

That somewhere, deep inside his cracked ribs, a little seed’s roots were slowly growing. 

Filling in the gaps.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter I had to write and rewrite (this is the chapter that nearly killed me) but it’s done! And in (maybe?) record time! Good work, everyone. Also some of the location stuff was really vague in both the anime and manga. So I made it up! As I do.

The school gates were locked.

Noya pressed his face against the bars, peering through them at the grounds beyond. What the hell. What the hell who locked the gate at—

He glanced at his phone.

Five. Forty eight in the morning. The first day of Golden Week.

Really.

Noya debated simply scrambling over the fence, but vague promises to Daichi of swearing off even semi-criminal activities reared their sanctimonious heads. He abandoned his shoddy stratagem.

He set his bag down in the dirt and hunkered down to wait for someone to show up with a key, absently wishing he’d thought to bring a jacket. It was a little chilly and his knee kept bouncing. Anticipation. Not from cold. Just like it had done the day before. Any time Ryū had said a word that started with the syllable ‘a.’ Crazy number of words started with ‘a,’ as it turned out. Enough things that Noya had been fairly sure he wasn’t going to survive conversation; he’d simply vibrate into bits. Ryū thankfully hadn’t picked up on it. Just as well. Noya would have let the guilt eat him alive if his friend had thought he wasn’t completely focused on them and their time together. Because he was. Totally, totally focused on Ryū and their adventures in realities both concrete and virtual.

Except for when Ryū said ‘a.’ Then all bets were off. Elation and trepidation had vied for dominance the entire time.

He liked Asahi. That was good, that simple fact he could deal with.

What to do with that knowledge was still stumping him. It was a good kind of stumping. Not like math. Or worse. English. It was video game stumping. Staring at a puzzle and knowing you had the vocabulary and skills to solve it. Just had to find the hidden switch or backtrack to get a key or find that one last monster and stab it a lot. He’d thrown handfuls of brain cells at the stumping, hoping one of them would have a flash of insight before it burst into flames.

Nothing. He was starting to question the point of having brain cells at all.

Noya let out a little breath and flipped on his phone again, humming under his breath. The yellow indicator light hadn’t gone out. New message. He knew who it was from. Last night he’d been trying to drift off, phone had buzzed, and the moment he’d seen the name he’d abandoned any hope of sleep.

/Hey, Nishinoya. Sorry if this wakes you. I just wanted to let you know I made it out of the woods in one piece. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow. First day of training camp. Please don’t let me slack no matter how pitiful I look. Night./

Noya had read the text several times, grudgingly stunned at Asahi’s brilliance. Made it out of the woods in one piece. Said for his benefit only, out of kindness. Stripped of details, of any telling information. The shallowness of it had let Noya pretend for a few more blissful minutes that maybe Takahashi had, in fact, succumbed to a series of nasty paper cuts that had rendered his feet unfit for hiking. The jealousy had been putting up a horrible fight but Noya was determined not to let it win. Even if he had to punch himself in the arm every time it flared u—

Noya punched his bicep, muttering a quiet ‘ow’ to himself before shaking it off. So what. So Asahi had been on a date. It was one date, he wasn’t marrying the guy. And if one date turned into two, he’d worry then. Not before.

Noya’s fingers traced the plastic edges of his phone. He barely remembered what he’d responded with. Something short and to-the-point. Asahi had responded but Noya hadn’t noticed the notification until he was halfway to school. Some part of him had hoped Asahi would have magically transformed into a morning person and they’d have time to themselves in the gym before everyone else slogged in and ruined the quiet they might have shared. That amiable, comfortable quiet. Of standing in the woods and listening to the wind caress the tops of the trees.

Stillness. That was it. That was what Noya wanted right then. Quiet and stillness before the morning vomited sunlight and other people all over everything.

But any time before six was probably a stretch. Even for someone without Asahi’s sleep issues.

Noya fiddled with his phone for a moment longer before finally opening the messenger client. He scanned his own reply to Asahi’s first message from the night before.

/how’d your date go/

He winced. Straight and to-the-point. Like he’d guessed. Probably could’ve tried to come off a bit less eager but that was hedging too close into lying territory. He let out a slow breath before hunkering down to read Asahi’s text. It was short and terse, but not unkind.

/complicated. too tired to type it up now. the proper punctuation and capitalization in that last text made it seem like i'm more awake than i actually am. if you still want to know tomorrow i'll tell you after practice. don't worry – no need to gather the villagers and pitchforks and drive shingo out of town. he's a nice guy. had a good time. but now i've got to sleep so i'll talk to you tomorrow morning./

There was another text after that one that simply read, /shingo=takahashi’s first name, sorry./

Noya stared at the two characters, goose bumps prickling along his arms.

Shingo.

In twenty-four hours he’d gone from the dubious title of a faceless moron at some rock-climbing place, to Shingo. A human being comprised of the characters for truth and protection. It was the kind of name an RPG guy would have. A knight or a paladin, someone brave.

Noya felt his eyes start to prick at the corners. Salt.

“Ah – shit. Keep it together, Nishinoya,” he muttered to himself, yanking up his shirt to scrub at his face before tugging his knees against his chest. He read the messages again and then muted his phone, a small frown on his face. Shingo meant potential second date. And what the hell was ‘complicated’ supposed to mean? Why was tired Asahi so cryptic.

Noya listened to the early spring crickets chirping quietly in the grass. The stone of the gate posts felt lonely against his back. T-shirt too thin to keep out the morning damp. He pillowed his cheek on his knees, his leg starting to shake again. It was hard to wish paper cuts on someone with a name like that. Shingo. Noya was going to have a hell of a time competing as it was. College student with a job, outdoorsy, obviously charming enough to get Asahi to drop his defenses and feel comfortable using his first name.

“Not fair, Asahi,” Noya said with a heavy sigh, strangling the tiny ball of jealousy in his gut. “Haven’t even said my first name yet.”

“Nishinoya?”

Noya lifted his head and then quickly sprang to his feet, startled out of his brief melancholy.

“Daichi!”

“Yes,” Daichi said, the single word seeming to cause him a great deal of pain. “Yes. It is me.” He stared blearily at the gate. “…The hell’s that not open for. Did you lock it?”

“No, scout’s honor I didn’t,” Noya said, knowing to play along. Daichi was almost as bad at mornings as Asahi. He just hid it a little better behind a façade of irritability.

Daichi pursed his lips, staring daggers at the gate as though it had spat on his mother. With a heavy sigh, he suddenly threw his bag over the top and hoisted himself up.

“Let’s go find the key. In a law-abiding fashion.”

“Does breaking and entering count as law-abiding?” Noya asked, even as he eagerly began to scale the short fence. It was always refreshing to see Daichi act like the teenager he was.

“We’re not breaking anything. I’ll take the blame if we’re caught.”

And rocketing back to adulthood in one sentence. It was impressive.

Daichi landed heavily on his feet and scooped up his bag. Noya waited for the older boy to move out of the way before dropping down as well. He offered his captain a little grin, but Daichi could only manage to stare blankly back before he began slogging his way across the gravel yard.

“You’re here early, Nishinoya.”

“Ah – yeah. I mean yes,” Noya said, jogging to catch up. “I was hoping to get a bit of extra practice time in.” Not a total lie.

“Dedicated,” Daichi said, the first spark of life returning to his face. “I hope I’ve told you already how glad I am you’re back. You and Asahi both.”

“Well it was both of us or neither of us, so… yes, I’m glad too,” Noya said carefully, not sure what to make of Daichi’s openness. His captain wasn’t exactly guarded, but he was a bit charier than Suga or Asahi when it came to sharing his subjective opinions.

Daichi’s steps faltered for a moment. He turned to stare at Noya, his eyes slightly wide.

“…So you were serious back then?” he said slowly. “About not returning without Asahi.”

Noya furrowed his brow, trying to remember what Daichi was referencing. It came back to him in a sudden rush of embarrassment.

“O-Oh – yes, I was,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to make it sound so dramatic or anything. I just – he’s. He’s too important. To the team! Too important to the team – it would’ve felt unbalanced without him.”

“…Unbalanced. I suppose,” Daichi said slowly, starting to walk again. “He is the spear to your shield, in a way. The cornerstone of our offense. Although Suga and I – we were surprised you felt that strongly. We know how much the sport means to you.” He raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t think you’d give it up for love or money.”

“It’s… it’s a sport, Dai. Like you said,” Noya mumbled, starting to feel a bit trapped. Daichi’s gaze was bright now, not a speck of exhaustion left. “I know it would’ve hurt Asahi to see me – to see us. There. Winning without him.”

“True. Human marshmallow that he is,” Daichi said in mild exasperation, his steps echoing loudly on the metal stairs leading up to the clubroom. “Although I suppose we have you and Suga to thank for keeping him emotionally afloat. I should probably pick on him less, but. It’s just so easy.”

“I think he secretly likes the extra bit of attention,” Noya said, stopping in front of the clubroom as Daichi fished around in his bag for the key.

“Masochistic marshmallow,” Daichi muttered, finally slotting the key into the door. “He’s made of stronger stuff than he realizes, though. You know that. Why am I preaching to you.”

“Captain instincts,” Noya said, following Daichi into the clubroom. “Exhaustion too, probably. I’m – I didn’t think you’d be the first one to show. No offense.”

“None taken. The only one worse than me at mornings is probably Asahi,” Daichi said, dumping his stuff in the corner and plucking the key ring off its hook by the door. He tossed the keys to Noya. “Go open up the gate and gym, would you? Coach Ukai should be here in half an hour or so and I wanted to get things set up as much as possible before he shows.”

Noya gave his captain a little salute and then jogged back out, glad to have a job to do, no matter how menial.

The gate stuck a bit, but he finally managed to slide it open. With one last push Noya shoved the heavy metal door completely into the post. He leaned against the bricks, breathing heavily. The sound of footsteps caught his attention, and a moment later a figure came into view. Noya’s eyes widened when he recognized the silhouette, and before he could check himself he blurted out, “Asahi!” Loud and delighted. Matching the sudden euphoric rush he felt. And his voice echoed way, way too much.

Asahi stopped in the middle of the path for just a moment before gamely moving forward again. His hair was sticking up in the back, barely staying in its normally neat bun. Bags under his eyes, T-shirt wrinkled. He looked like a mountain ascetic who had finally stumbled back into civilization. Disheveled Asahi was normally a source of great hilarity to Noya, but judging from the sudden coal furnace in his stomac,h his body was rethinking his brain’s initial assessment.

Noya gave in to instinct and let his legs carry him forward to meet the other boy, not bothering to hide the sudden spring to his step. Asahi gave him a weary smile and raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey, Nishinoya. You’re looking chipper as always.”

Noya quickly strangled his inner-monologue’s delighted bellow of HE THINKS I’M CHIPPER. Chipper could mean anything. Could be pejorative, even.

Instead Noya scowled and planted his hands on his hips, staring up into Asahi’s worn face.

“Asahi – did you sleep at all?!”

“No,” Asahi croaked, but the corners of his lips twitched up in a smile. “Sorry, Nishinoya. I’m not going to be at my best today. I’ll take a nap at lunch, though. Promise.”

Noya frowned but stepped aside to let Asahi in through the gates.

“Daichi’s already here,” he warned, jogging slowly to keep up with Asahi’s longer stride.

“Really? That’s something of a miracle,” Asahi murmured, his voice soft and distant. He was looking straight ahead, and Noya felt a dark bubble threaten to pop inside his lungs. Jealousy. Gross.

“You’re acting kind of like a zombie,” he pointed out, distracting himself with conversation.

“Zombie?”

“The reanimated dead.”

“I know what they are – sorry, that was – I meant. How?”

“The general shuffling gait, glazed over eyes – and you kind of look like death. And I have to level with you, Asahi. You’ve smelled better.”

“Oh.” Asahi laughed quietly, the noise too gentle and happy for Noya’s liking. “Well I showered before bed, so I know you’re just hyperbolizing on that last one. But it’s… it’s weird. I don’t feel dead.”

“Huh.” Noya slowed his pace, falling behind Asahi just a bit, staring up at him curiously. Tired Asahi was awfully cheerful. Despite how crummy he looked. “How do you feel, then?”

Asahi hummed in thought, and just before he answered Noya realized he probably shouldn’t have asked. Asahi turned and smiled at him, genuine and unguarded.

“Alive. Really – really happy.”

Noya pressed a hand against his sternum, forcing the tar-like bubble back down even as it swelled to consume his throat. Made it hard to speak without his voice being all gummy.

“Happy – that’s. Awesome,” he said, and he meant it. Jealousy and all, if Asahi was happy – if Shingo could make Asahi smile before six in the morning, fine. He’d just have to work harder.

After he got his shit under control.

On a whim he tossed the key ring at Asahi. “I’m heading into the gym. Make sure Daichi hasn’t fallen asleep in the clubroom.”

“Wait – Nishinoya!”

Noya reluctantly halted his pre-sprint wind up and looked over his shoulder at Asahi. The older boy was staring at him, his large hands clutching the keys to his chest, eyes soft and uncertain.

“I—can I talk to you about it tonight? At the lodge?” he asked hopefully. “I know the first day of training camp is always a little intense but… it would mean a lot to me.”

The bubble deflated.

Noya stood up straight and turned to face Asahi properly. “Yeah, Asahi,” he said firmly. “Remember what I told you the other day about your open invitation to talk? Still applies. No expiration date or anything cheap like that.”

The look of relief on Asahi’s face made Noya feel two centimeters shorter out of guilt. A huge sacrifice considering how few he had to spare.

“Thank you – thanks, Nishinoya. And the same goes for you,” Asahi said, happiness practically radiating from his voice. “It’s a two-way invitation. Anything at all.”

“I think I’ve got stuff figured out for now, but thanks,” Noya said, tugging at his bangs to force himself to focus and not keep staring at Asahi’s delighted face. The way his eyes crinkled and his cheeks grew flushed. He really wore happiness well. He had a face made for it. Noya cleared his throat and looked away, his stomach starting to burn again. “You – you should probably go check on Daichi before he sleepwalks into the lockers again. We can’t afford to have a concussed captain this close to the Nekoma match.”

“What – oh, god I’d almost forgotten about that,” Asahi laughed, turning on his heel to jog away. “Be back in a bit!”

“I’ll get started on setup!” Noya quickly sprinted over to the gym, his hand pressed against his chest to keep his racing heart from exploding. He’d made early-morning Asahi laugh. Well, technically Daichi and his somnambulism had, but it still counted.

He slowed his steps once he approached the gym and placed his hand against the cold, metal door. Focus. He couldn’t let himself get this worked up during practice. Asahi smiled a lot. Noya had always responded to it – his ace’s happiness meant the team’s victory. But now it was getting out of control.

Focus.

Noya breathed deeply, clearing his mind, and tugged on the door.

It didn’t budge.

He tried again. And again. And then slowly realized that, like the savant he was, he’d given the keys to Asahi. All of them.

He sat down on the step in front of the door, leaning his head back against the metal. Lovestruck him was a genius, clearly. Not that he was in love – no, shit, what a terrible, terrible word choice. Likestruck him. Struck by like.

He scrubbed at his face and let out a little puff of laughter.

“Daichi’s gonna yell at me for sure…”

With a sudden burst of impatience, Noya slammed the heel of his palm against his forehead and pushed himself to his feet. There had to be an open window somewhere. He spent a minute circling the building like a caged animal before he gave up and began clawing helplessly at the metal door. Thankfully Daichi showed up a few seconds later with the keys and let him in, but not before giving him a bizarre look and reminding him that just because Suga would yell at him for biting his nails didn’t mean he needed to try ripping them off completely to hide the evidence. Noya ignored his captain’s sass and bolted inside the gym, thankful that they’d been allowed to leave the net up the night before. He immediately grabbed a cart and started to warm up, passing to the wall to loosen up his arms a bit.

He threw himself to the side to catch the ball as it pinged off the side, and from across the gym he heard Daichi whistle lowly.

“Already in rare form, Nishinoya. Good work.”

“Thank you!” he called out, throwing his focus into warming up again. He was conscious of every rhythm of shoes against the floor. The steady, even falling of Daichi’s steps. The quick, irregular scuffling of Ryū, eerily-quiet-for-his-size Tsukishima.

There.

Landing with the ball of the foot first. Dragging the heel just a bit. The inner-heel of his shoes always wore out first. Made his knees roll towards each other just a bit. It always took him a moment to adjust whenever he got new shoes. Which happened with alarming frequency he wore them out so fast. All the stuttering he did in his approach, probably. That long, heavy drag of the heel right before his feet met and he left Noya’s domain.

Noya cursed as the ball ricocheted weirdly off the knobby part of his wrist. It rolled to a stop in front of Asahi’s scuffed trainers. Asahi bent down to scoop it up, tilting his head to the side. Lopsided. Just like his dumb shoes.

Noya quickly took the ball back, averting his eyes.

Like his dumb shoes that Noya had memorized the wear patterns on. Apparently.

“Thanks.”

“It’s no problem. Just a little surprising to see you spacing out, Nishinoya.”

Noya felt his cheeks color a disturbing amount. He shrugged his shoulders, the teammate part of him cringing with humiliation at being called out by the ace.

“Sor—”

“It’s almost nice.”

Noya lifted his head in surprise. Asahi’s expression was serious but kind. His eyes crinkling around the corners.

“…Nice,” Noya repeated. “To see me mess up?”

Asahi shook his head and rested his hand on Noya’s shoulder as he passed.

“To see you human. ‘Guardian god.’”

Noya swallowed heavily and pressed his face against the ball in his hands, saying quickly, “I-I didn’t come up with that nickname, you know!” He had to fight to get the words out, heat racing through his body from the warm catalyst against his shoulder. It was making human speech a near-impossible task.

“I know. You never would call yourself that.” Asahi grinned, and Noya fought not to throw the ball right into Asahi’s face just to provide distraction. The slightly playful, almost childish glint to Asahi’s eye made him think of Suga in his more devious moments.

“Which is why I have no intention of letting the nickname die.”

“Wh—Asahi!” Noya wailed, giving into temptation and hucking the ball (lightly) at Asahi’s chest. The older boy let out an alarmed laugh, barely managing to catch the projectile. From across the court Ryū’s voice boomed against the walls, “Noya! Don’t throw shit at your upperclassmen! Even Asahi!”

“Wh— ‘even’…”

Asahi sighed and after tossing Noya a light smile, turned to jog over to Ryū, the ball still clutched against his chest. Noya waited until he was sure Asahi wasn’t paying attention to him anymore before he allowed himself a moment to turn around and rub a hand over his face. Fuck. Fuck, he wasn’t going to last the practice. Not with Asahi smiling at him and touching his shoulder and – how the fuck did he know to do that more? It was like he somehow understood that every bit of physical attention he paid him went straight to Noya’s—

…

Stomach.

Noya rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a slow breath. Not an unfamiliar reaction to have. But the cause was a bit…

He glanced over his shoulder to where Asahi was talking with Chikara.

…Alien. Still.

Ryū jogged over to sock him in the arm just as Daichi yelled for them to start conditioning. The loud squeak of trainers against the polished floor, the smell of Ryū’s musty gym clothes and sharp bite of the deodorant he wore slapped Noya completely out of his stupor, taking care of his slightly lingering problem as well.

Fucking thin-as-paper gym shorts. Really didn’t help.

Ryū was talking animatedly about the new game that was coming out next month, but fell quiet when the third years pulled up behind them. Suga reached out to lightly push his fingertips against the spot between Noya’s shoulder blades.

“So Asahi says he wasn’t with you yesterday either, Nishinoya. Can you confirm?”

“Wh—oh.”

Noya nodded, tilting his head back to glance curiously up at Asahi. The older boy’s face was pale.

“…Yeah, he wasn’t with me ei—”

“Noya, dumbass watch where you’re goin’!” Ryū said in exasperation, tugging on his shirt to keep him in line with the rest of the team jogging around the gym.

Daichi hummed thoughtfully, his eyes lighting up. Suga met Daichi’s grin with one of his own and clutched at his chest.

“Could it be – is our son leading a double life?”

International man of mystery?

Power ranger?

“Magical girl?”

“Daichi – no, please, not this early. I can’t take it.”

Asahi’s pleading voice made the other two third-years burst out laughing. Daichi’s low chuckle made Noya grin. It was rare to hear him laugh so unabashedly. Asahi grumbled quietly, and when Suga elbowed him and teased, “What was that?” he said just a bit louder, “I do have friends outside of you two and Nishinoya…”

Noya’s steps faltered as he took the next turn, the heat in his gut effervescing in one beautiful moment into clear, fizzy water.

He quickly ducked his head, not wanting Ryū to see him grinning like an idiot.

Friend.

Said in the same breath he’d mentioned Daichi and Suga.

That one word shouldn’t have tasted so unbelievably sweet, but Noya was willing to hang onto any gift he was given, no matter how small.

He frowned as the other implications of the word set in.

Friend.

Sort of a double-edged sword. In this case. Not that Asahi would have any idea.

“So where were you, then? I tried your cell all day yesterday.”

Daichi really did sound like a disappointed father when he tried.

“He called me in a near panic, speculating that your hair had somehow gained sentience and strangled you in your sleep.”

“Suga that was your theory and I told you there was little to no evidence to support it.”

“Give it time, Daichi.”

“I was out.”

Noya winced at the feebleness of Asahi’s dodging. Next to him Ryū let out a little snort and muttered, “Guy would make a hell of a double agent. Probably end up shot by his own men in less than two seconds.”

“How is that a ‘hell of a double agent’?” Noya murmured back.

“Hey, a record’s a record. And that’d be one.”

“Oi – Kageyama, that’s cheating!”

“You’re allowed to pass on the inside, Hinata you idiot!”

Noya nimbly dodged out of the way as twin orange and black blurs went zooming by. Normally he’d join them, but he had a vested interest in the conversation going on behind him. Chikara was already looking at him weirdly, but he just gestured to his knee when the other second year and Kinoshita lapped their small group. Chikara raised an eyebrow but thankfully refrained from comment. Bless his soul.

“’Out’ – Asahi, you couldn’t even pad the lie a little? Add a place or a time or an event?”

“Or a planet?”

“Suga you’re not helping.”

“I’m just trying to give him a safe space to talk.”

“I—I was out. That’s all I really feel like saying.”

Noya could hear the blush in Asahi’s voice and mentally groaned. Sure enough, one breath later and Suga’s delighted voice floated up to hover above them like a gleeful cloud.

“Asahi.”

The floorboards shook as a lumbering seventeen-year-old skidded to a partial stop.

Suga snickered quietly, sheer, unbridled joy in the twisted noise.

“Oh. Oh man. Oh man, I never thought this day would come—”

“Blossoming into womanhood.”

“Well said, Sawamura, well said.”

“You guys—I don’t know what you’re insinuating but cut it out!”

“Asahi, a starved koala would know what we’re insinuating—”

“You choose the weirdest animals for your example sentences, Suga—”

“It’s an endearing character trait, Daichi, don’t interrupt.”

“I really don’t know! But we’re in practice, and—”

“So who is she, Mr. Azumane?”

The trio fell silent. Two from expectation, one from what had to be sheer horror.

Noya kept his eyes focused straight ahead, his intestines slowly growing cold. Who was she, Asahi. It would be so easy to deflect. Asahi could just say that he was out with a friend – maybe they wouldn’t buy that. Not Daichi and Suga, they were too world-wise. Maybe out alone… seemed more plausible—

“N-No one! No one you know!”

Ryū hissed with sympathy and pressed a hand against his face, risking a glance over his shoulder at the three third-years behind them.

“It’s amazing he hasn’t accidentally outed himself before this,” he muttered, turning back to face front again. “Honestly, Asahi is the kind of guy to unintentionally divulge this shit in a mass email. Probably sent to the whole school.”

“God he would,” Noya said quietly, torn between amusement and sympathy. He glanced over his shoulder and Asahi cast him a pleading look. Ah, hell. It probably was going to happen sooner or later. Noya turned back around, meeting Ryū’s slightly worried gaze.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You know, he comes out… people’re gonna know about you, too,” Ryū said quietly. “High-schoolers are real smart shits when it comes t’ connectin’ romantic lines.”

“Don’t care.”

“Okay. Then why the hyperventilation?”

Noya made a face and clamped his mouth shut to get his breathing under control. He finally lowered his hands, his lips pressed together in a stubborn frown.

“…I don’t want Asahi to get hurt by this,” he said finally, trying to pick through his emotions. “He’s been scared into keepin’ it quiet, and he’d probably never forgive himself if he let it slip before he was ready to deal with the social fallout or whatever he thinks is gonna happen.”

“Yeah. And Asahi’s the type to build himself a bomb shelter at the first sign of a perceived apocalypse. Hole in there and never come out.” Ryū glanced down at his friend, one eyebrow raised. “Sort of like someone else I know.”

“Hey that’s – only mildly accurate,” Noya mumbled, not liking to think about his month of self-isolation.

“Well you better keep him from detonatin’ himself, then.” Ryū gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. Suga was crying with laughter behind them and Daichi kept threatening to wring the truth from Asahi after practice. Asahi’s voice was getting feebler and feebler with each verbal prodding.

Noya winced.

Oh boy.

Ukai blew the whistle to gather them over. Noya followed Ryū, so tense he felt like he was going to implode at any moment. He could hear Asahi still stammering behind them, stuff about how Suga and Daichi had it wrong, it really was no one, he’d just slipped up. It was clear Daichi wasn’t falling for it, but after a few more seconds of interrogation Suga interrupted with a stern, “Not now, Daichi, we’re in the middle of practice.” The look of shame and chagrin (and a bit of challenging fire) that flashed across Daichi’s face would have been entertaining under any other circumstances.

Ukai launched into his breakdown of that morning’s drills. Noya tried to take note, but found himself looking over his shoulder more often than not. Asahi was biting his lip, his eyes trained on a spot on the floor. He hadn’t moved in the near-minute since Ukai had started talking. His arms were trembling.

The whistle blew again, and everyone scattered off to get things set up for the blocking drills they were doing. Noya saw Asahi wince when Daichi opened his mouth, and something inside him broke.

He quickly jogged over and tugged on Asahi’s sleeve.

“So, Asahi, how did yesterday go? Sorry – got kind of distracted during warm-up.”

The three third years stared at him in surprise. Asahi most of all.

“Go – I… N-Nishinoya, I, uh…” Asahi stumbled onward, his eyes darting around like a trapped animal’s. Noya let out a sigh and put his hands on his hips. All about the show. Asahi wanted to stay hidden and even though it would have been relatively easy and painless for it to go down like this, the half-eaten crepe in Asahi’s large, trembling hands loomed in his mind. Like a whipped-cream drenched contract.

“You know. You said you were going to go hiking yesterday? Map out that new trail and see if it was a good place for us to train?”

Not a total lie. The Nishinoya code was preserved.

Suga and Daichi glanced at one another before turning their attention back to Asahi.

“Train?” Daichi echoed.

“Asahi and I went on a morning run the other day up into the mountains. And he said he wanted to do things like that more often. You know – getting outside the gym and things,” Noya said, pitching his voice as light as possible. “So how’d it go, Asahi? Does the trail seem, uh… promising?”

Asahi’s eyes lit up with understanding, and in a hurried jumble of words he said quickly, “Y-Yes! Yes, it’s promising – really promising, but the trail’s still new and – and under, um. C-Construction. So I don’t think everyone is ready to hear about the… the trail. Just yet.”

Noya nodded, offering Asahi a little smile. It felt incredibly fake. Daichi and Suga seemed too disappointed to notice. Asahi too relieved.

“That’s too bad. Maybe soon.”

“Maybe… yeah, maybe. Soon,” Asahi echoed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Suga let out a heavy sigh and lightly hit Asahi’s shoulder.

“You dork. You could have just said that instead of being cruel and getting our hopes up.”

“I thought you said that if Asahi started dating before you you’d grow your hair out to see if maybe that was the key. Should I ready a scrunchie for you?”

“No – Daichi, anything I say after two in the morning is rendered null and void. Honor the agreement.”

“Hey!” Ukai barked, and all four had to duck as a bevy of volleyballs whizzed overhead. “Talk later! Train now!”

“Sorry!”

“Sorry, Coach!”

Daichi quickly hurried off towards the net, his ears bright red. Suga followed (after lightly punching Asahi one last time in the chest). Noya stopped to grab a few of the balls, still on edge from being yelled at. But when he looked up, he caught sight of Asahi’s face just for a moment. Long enough to see the look of utter relief in his eyes, his thin lips forming the grateful words, ‘Thanks, Nishinoya,’ before he jogged away.

Noya watched Asahi join his fellow third years on the other side of the net, talking quietly with them as they helped Kiyoko set up the platforms for the drill. Asahi’s shoulders were relaxed. He was smiling.

Right call made. Apparently.

Which is why it didn’t make sense that he still felt off all practice.

He managed to keep it from affecting his performance too badly. Pixie and wunderkind were in rare form, and they continued to steal the show. It was something of a relief. Not just to see the team coming together, to see Shōyō finding his stride and accepting his role in things, but also because Noya had been so inwardly focused for so long that having something else to cheer for besides his own run-ragged self-revelation streak was a godsend. Eighteen hours of reflection was seventeen and three quarters too many.

The last drill they did was spike practice. He took his place next to Kiyoko, offering her an absent smile when she glanced at him. Her dark blue eyes widened. For a moment she looked as though she might say something, soft, pink lips parting (and damn she really was pretty, Noya noticed distractedly) but then Ukai blew his whistle and the rallying calls sounded forth.

Noya continued to lob balls over the net, receiving a few when there was a break in the flow. Tsukishima was in rare form. Coach had pulled him aside halfway through receive practice. Must have said something to rattle him. His brow was a bit more furrowed than usu—

Noya instinctively dove to catch the last ball, the whistle signaling the end of practice. He popped up the moment the ball left his arms and tilted his head to see whose spike it had been. Chikara quirked a brow at him and waved his fingers.

“I make it too easy for you, don’t I?” he said, ducking under the net and jogging over to Noya’s side.

Noya laughed and placed his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, right! That almost felt like one of Asahi’s. Just needed a bit more power.”

“You flatter me,” Chikara said dryly, bending down to start gathering up the scattered balls. “Or belittle Asahi. Honestly either’s possible.”

“I’d never belittle Asahi,” Noya said automatically, helping his fellow second-year with the preemptive cleanup.

Chikara snorted. “Really? Just like Hinata never riles Kageyama on purpose?”

“Nishinoya’s right, Ennoshita. He’s just adept at keeping me on my toes.”

Noya tensed as Asahi suddenly appeared, crouching down next to him to help collect the balls. The other boy’s figure was a looming presence, even when hunched over an unassuming hardwood floor. Asahi seemed too small for his body most of the time. Most of the time Noya felt too big for his own. Weird how that worked.

Now, though… Asahi felt bigger. Like he finally fit.

Noya quickly jogged over to the ball cart to toss in the ones he’d collected, his cheeks burning.

“Sorry, Asahi. Didn’t mean to insult the libero,” Chikara said with a little, unsure smile. He lightly ruffled Noya’s hair, dodging Noya’s angry swipes. “Well, I’ll leave this quadrant to you two, then. Good work today, Asahi.”

“You too, Ennoshita.”

Noya pursed his lips and glared half-heartedly at his fellow second-year. Chikara grinned and prodded him in the chest.

“Behave, Nishinoya. Be the libero Asahi sees in you.”

“I’m behavin’!” Noya protested, picking up a ball and slamming it into the cart with a bit of exaggerated force. “See?! Behavin’!”

Chikara just laughed and then jogged away to go help Narita move the platforms.

Noya crouched back down to resume working, mumbling to himself until he calmed down. Chikara liked to play the part of his keeper, which he didn’t mind, usually. But today it felt weird being teased like that in front of Asahi. Made him feel like he was a little kid.

He risked a glance at Asahi out of the corner of his eye.

And he definitely didn’t want that. Not around Asahi.

The third year was staring over his shoulder at the rest of the gym, obviously checking for something. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear with an absent neuroticism. Again. And again.

When it fell out of place a third time, Noya lost patience. He grabbed the strand and jammed it as gently as he could underneath the rest of Asahi’s hair before looking away, not sure what had compelled him to do that. He wiped his fingers on his shirt. Asahi’s hair was sweaty. Still somehow appealing.

“Don’t let your hair fall in your eyes,” he said as firmly as he could. “What if it compromises your vision?”

What if he couldn’t resist the urge to touch it. Even when it was sweaty and universally understood to be at hair’s most disgusting.

“…Compromises my vision,” Asahi said slowly. “While I’m crouching?”

“You never know – what if some rival school in the prefecture hires assassins to take you out?” Noya said, quickly throwing his stuff in his bag. He could feel Asahi laughing. It was doing things to his legs that normally only steep inclines and physical exhaustion were capable of achieving.

“Wouldn’t they take Kageyama out first? I’m fairly sure he was born with a target on his back,” Asahi said, his voice light. Like how honey grew crisp on top of buttered toast.

Noya quickly stood, looking anywhere but at Asahi.

Room was tilting. Way, way too much. Steep incline levels. He had to get out before he slid sideways into Asahi and did something really, really dumb.

Like get him to cheat on his.

His.

Shingo.

Person.

Noya hiked his bag up onto his shoulder, casting a wary glance around. Everyone was preoccupied with their own pairs. Weird how they always sectioned themselves off like that. Orange Spring and Blue Cannon were arguing. Giant Blonde was berating Freckles. Dai and Suga being responsible and talking with Coach and Take. Ryū was trying to get Kiyoko to let him help her with something.

And he was standing off with Asahi.

When had they become a pair, exactly.

Noya cleared his throat and then forced himself to ask. It was either now or wait until they were at the lodge that evening. And he had to know at least a little something now or he was going to drive himself crazy with the weird paper-dolls of Asahi and the yet-unknown Shingo his brain theater was waving around.

“So I know we don’t really have time to get into this now, but… kinda curious,” he said quietly.

Asahi hummed in the back of his throat, not looking up from retying his shoes.

“About what?”

“About Shingo,” Noya said, throwing out the name rebelliously.

Asahi paused, glancing up at him in confusion, his hand still stuck in his bag.

“…Who?”

Noya raised an eyebrow.

“Shingo,” he repeated patiently. “Your date?”

Asahi’s brow furrowed.

“Shin—oh! Right, sorry. Still really tired...”

“Sure, Shin-oh. Him,” Noya said, stepping back a bit to let Asahi stand up. “The first name probably threw you off—”

“It’s fine,” Asahi said quickly, lowering his voice. “It just – took me a second. Not really focused on – well it’s weird hearing names out of context. Maybe.”

His eyes were fixed on the floor and his mouth was all scrunched up like he was going to puke. Noya waited a moment longer and then said quietly, “Asahi, you don’t need to look so nervous. Remember? We’ve already had the big reveal where you tell me you’re dating him—”

“We’re not dating,” Asahi murmured absently, tucking the strand of hair behind his ear again. He smiled. Embarrassed. “I’m just a little ashamed it took me so long to remember who the hell ‘Shingo’ could be referring to when I just saw him yesterda—”

“Asahi! Did you bring that spinach thing your mom makes?”

Daichi came jogging over, looking hopeful. Asahi winced and glanced down at Noya before calling back, “Y-Yes! Just – give me a minute, please?”

Daichi’s steps slowed. He raised an eyebrow but then just said dryly, “No fighting, you two,” and then turned back around to talk to Suga for a moment. Asahi let out a little breath and turned to Noya again, but before he said anything he paused and leaned down.

“Nishinoya… are you okay?”

Noya nodded quickly, unable to stop biting the insides of his cheeks. If he let go for even a moment he knew he was going to start laughing with relief. Really, really fucking hard.

Shin-oh.

Asahi continued to stare.

“…Your cheeks are all puckered.”

“…Bit. Bit my tongue,” Noya mumbled, his teeth clamping on his cheeks even harder when Asahi’s look turned to one of mild concern.

“Oh. You should ice it at lunch. But it – the thing… went well enough. Like I said this morning. Shingo’s nice. It was a little awkward at first, but… nice,” Asahi finally said. Noya struggled to refrain from pointing out that that was not what Asahi had said that morning. That he had said the word ‘happy’ more times in the span of two minutes than he had probably ever uttered before five AM in all his seventeen years of being.

“Nice is good,” Noya finally managed to say. Asahi blinked slowly and then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s good. And good is nice, and – and Shingo is nice. And the mountain was nice but it wasn’t… ah…” He gestured vaguely, dragging his hands through the stagnant air. Noya watched him drown for a few moments before venturing slowly, “But it wasn’t… happy?” He didn’t want to hope. Not too much, but hoping was in his nature. When he was so overwhelmed and overcome he had to bite his cheeks and dig his fingernails into his palm. To keep reality in his words. Thoughts. Actions.

Thoughts most of all. Now, especially.

Asahi stopped struggling. He lowered his hands and rolled his shoulders.

“…Aah,” he said quietly, the little exhale carrying so, so much more than the two characters it composed. “It wasn’t… quite.”

“Asahi! We only have twenty minutes for lunch, you goofball!”

Asahi flinched and grabbed his bag on impulse. He patted Nishinoya’s arm as he passed, saying quietly, “If we could talk more at the lodge, I’d appreciate it. But I’d understand if you want to spend more time with—”

“With you, yeah,” Noya said bluntly, not bothering to fetter his words. The catch in Asahi’s cadence was enough to let him know he’d made the right call. Asahi’s hand lingered, his fingers slipping off Noya’s sweaty skin one by one until he stepped away completely.

“…Later, then,” he said quietly, confused and hopeful.

“Definitely later,” Noya said, hiking up his bag again before jogging over to Ryū, struggling not to look back. His friend quirked an eyebrow at him. No smile.

“You look happy.”

“Definitely the word of the hour,” Noya said, jogging ahead of Ryū. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t fucking stop, not even if he wanted to.

“Wh—oi! Noya!”

Ryū pulled even with him and hit him on the back.

“What the fuck, man! My legs’re jelly – I told you that!”

“Sorry,” Noya said, his cheeks aching and his stomach rolling like a fucking dingy in a hurricane. And still he couldn’t stop.

They ended up underneath one of the trees in the middle of the school courtyard. Chikara and the other two second years settled down a little bit away. Close enough to engage in conversation if they yelled. Far away enough that they could easily be left out of certain topics by speaking at a normal-person’s volume.

Noya stretched out his legs, prodding a bruise that was blossoming on his shin. He glanced at his lunchbox but dismissed it, uninterested. Rice balls no. Intrigue yes.

Ryū peeled the cellophane off his first convenience store sandwich. Noya waited impatiently for him to take a bite. Ryū was always most fun to talk to when he was trying to cram food down his throat. Ryū’s teeth met egg-salad. Noya pounced.

“Asahi’s date went horribly.”

Ryū raised an eyebrow and pointed to the sandwich still stuck in his mouth. Noya waved his hand.

“I know, I know. That’s not what he said. He said it was good or whatever – but he forgot who Shin-oh was! Er, Shingo. Whatever, that guy! Totally – just fuckin’ forgot about him!”

Noya thudded his head against the tree bark, his hands pressed against his eyes as he struggled to keep himself still. They were supposed to be resting before they went back inside the gym to tear up their muscles more.

“Who the fuck is Shin-oh.”

“Shingo.”

“Shingo. His date?”

“Yeah – well they’re not datin’.”

“The guy he went on a date with.”

“One date! And they’re not datin’!”

“Yes, you said that.”

Ryū’s voice was weary. Noya managed to pry his hands away from his face. Ryū was picking at his sandwich, scraping the filling out of the sealed bread and eating it sullenly. Noya watched him, not sure what to make of the display.

“…You okay?”

Ryū shoved the empty breads back into their plastic.

“Yeah – exhausted,” he said, glancing at Noya. He finally cracked a smile. “You seem to have plenty of energy, though. Dunno where the fuck you get it from.”

“Dude, anyone would have energy if they found out the guy they, uh… admired, went on a date that sucked! Right? Right?!” Noya said animatedly, glad Ryū was still willing to indulge him.

Ryū yanked the plastic off his next sandwich and started dissecting it as well. Cutlet gone, bread stuffed back inside the plastic.

“Thought you said he said – ugh. Fuckin’ hate this.” He grabbed his water and downed a mouthful before trying again. “He said it went well. That’s what you just fuckin’ said and what I definitely eavesdropped him sayin’ in the gym.”

“He said it was ‘nice,’” Noya corrected, unable to keep from grinning.

“Same thing.”

“No it’s not.” Noya shifted to sit in front of his friend, leaning forward as he said passionately, “You know what’s nice?! Visits from your grandparents are ‘nice.’ Winnin’ an extra ice cream’s ‘nice.’ Goin’ out on a date with someone you like? That isn’t nice. That’s like – well I haven’t done it before, but it’s probably a lot fuckin’ better than nic—”

“Can you stop sayin’ that word?!”

Noya immediately shut his mouth. He sat back on his heels and pulled his hands away from Ryū’s knees. Ryū was staring over his shoulder, his teeth clenched. Noya didn’t know the expression. Fell under the general category of ‘pissed,’ but he’d never seen it aimed at himself before.

“…Yeah,” he said finally. “Sorry. It’s – it’s probably a lot better than… good. Or whatever.”

Ryū tugged his legs in to sit cross-legged. He grabbed his lunch things and started methodically packing them away. Noya watched him, confused.

“…I thought you said it didn’t bother you?” he ventured finally. Ryū wasn’t a guy who changed his mind. Which is why so many of their virtual adventures had been cut short. Refused to even go back and start from the last save before he’d fucked up.

“It doesn’t.”

Ryū continued shoving things in bags.

“…Okay. Then – then I don’t. Really know what’s happenin’,” Noya admitted, the elation slowly draining out of him.

Ryū finally looked up long enough to meet his eyes for a moment and then shook his head. He rested his wrists on his knees. Noya felt like he was being stared down by his grandfather’s portrait. It made him sit up a little straighter, tuck his legs properly underneath himself.

“Look – I’m. Glad. Asahi’s date was mediocre,” Ryū finally said, his fingers twitching as he talked. “And that he’s not datin’ Shin… whatever. That’s great. But he didn’t say it sucked. He said it was nice. And nice isn’t worth gettin’ worked up over this much. And – shit.” He ran a hand over his face and let out a slow breath. When he opened his eyes again the weird, solemn frame that had outlined him was gone. He laughed weakly.

“Sorry – I shouldn’t have snapped. Legs are just killin’ me, I guess. Kageyama’s a hell of a setter but we’re still not matched right. Keep havin’ to jump too high.”

“It’s okay,” Noya responded automatically, not sure what else to say. He worried at his phrasing for a moment before giving up and spitting it out half-masticated. “Are you worried Chikara and the others are gonna hear, or—”

“I’m worried you’re buildin’ this up into a fantasy,” Ryū said, sounding more weary than anything now. “I feel like I’ve said this a dozen fuckin’ times, but the guy’s kissed you once, on impulse, an’ has told you over and over again that he regrets it. It’s great that you’re friends, but you’re gettin’ a little too hopeful over one mediocre – at worst – date. It’s just a little early to be jumpin’ the gun—”

“But it wasn’t mediocre,” Noya insisted, starting to get a bit frustrated. “He didn’t remember the guy’s name! He didn’t—”

“He didn’t respond when you used the first name of the guy he went on a date with,” Ryū interrupted, pitching his voice lower when Chikara glanced their way curiously. “That doesn’t mean he went all MIB flash stick memory loss. You’re graspin’ at straws here—”

“I’m tellin’ you, Ryū, he forgot the guy!” Noya said sharply. “I think I know Asahi better than you—”

“Well no fuckin’ shit!” Ryū suddenly yelled, slamming his hand against his knee. “No fuckin’ shit, Noya! You spend all your damn free time with him now – every fuckin’ chance you get at practice you’re hangin’ off his arm!”

“Whoa.”

Narita’s whispered word made Ryū clamp his mouth shut and Noya tense. He’d forgotten they had an audience. All three of their fellow classmates were looking at them worriedly from across the way.

And Ryū was looking anywhere but at him.

Chikara’s soft voice drifted over, suggesting they leave the two of them alone. Part of Noya wanted to protest, insist that they could stay. But Ryū’s unhappy expression made him keep silent. The moment the others were gone, though, he spoke up. Didn’t have to think hard, the words came desperately forward. Ryū had to understand. He knew him.

“It’s not on purpose,” he said. “It’s not – he needs me now. I feel like such a selfish asshole but I promise it’s not on purpose.”

Ryū deflated a bit. His shoulders rounded, long fingers plucked at the few, struggling blades of grass worming their way up through the dirt.

“…Yeah. I know,” he said, defeated. “I know you’re not that kind of guy. You’re not selfish and you’re not malicious. I don’t think you posses the capacity.” His lips suddenly quirked up just a bit and he bumped his foot against Noya’s. “Or the intelligence.”

Noya returned the weak smile with a hopeful one of his own, his heart still beating loudly in his ears. He hadn’t realized how fast it had been going. Ryū yelling made him feel like throwing up.

“If callin’ me stupid is makin’ you feel better then keep doin’ it,” he said. “I’ve earned it. But seriously, I wouldn’tve kept talkin’ if I thought even for a second that it bothered—”

Noya fell awkwardly silent, unsure how to proceed. Ryū’s response of ‘it doesn’t’ obviously hadn’t been the whole truth. They’d never lied to each other before. Not even half-lies.

Something small splintered between them. A hairline crack. Noya remained perfectly still, not wanting to move in case even breathing made the crack widen.

That.

Kind of hurt.

Ryū, however, didn’t seem to notice. He scooted forward and leaned in, bumping his forehead against Noya’s. Noya cautiously returned the little gesture, keeping silent so Ryū could speak.

“I know, you dumb shit,” Ryū said affectionately. “I know you wouldn’tve. It’s – I mean. I didn’t ever think I’d be a jealous person but turns out it kind of fuckin’ sucks havin’ to share my court husband.”

“Court husb—”

“Heard Chikara usin’ it to describe us. Thought it fit.”

“Oh—yeah, it’s fuckin’ brilliant, we’re usin’ it forever,” Noya said quietly, some of the panic leaving him. He let out a slow breath and lightly punched Ryū’s shoulder.

“…So you’re not gonna yell at me anymore? Even if I tell you that I sort of… I promised Asahi—”

“Guy’s obviously got issues he only trusts you with,” Ryū said, sitting back and opening his lunch again. “And you call yourself selfish. Can’t believe I yelled at you over somethin’ so du—uh. Whatever. Here.” He offered a carrot to Noya, who took it, but only to fiddle with. He rolled it between his palms, studying Ryū silently for a moment. His friend had tilted his head back and was staring up through the budding leaves. He didn’t seem to care that a beam of sunlight was hitting him directly in the eye.

Noya suddenly moved to sit next to Ryū, tilting his head back as well. He stared up through the leaves, wanting the same view.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, the childish words carrying all the solemnity he could muster. He felt Ryū laugh quietly, the other boy’s elbow digging into his arm just a bit.

“You’re mine too, you little asshole,” he said softly. “Sorry if I ever made you doubt it.”

Noya closed his eyes. The sun really was too bright.

“Not for a second.”

*

They were almost late to practice. Noya caught Chikara murmuring something to Kinoshita about ‘court divorce,’ but he quickly ran over and defused the situation, making all three of his fellow second years laugh and roll their eyes and his and Ryū’s ‘drama.’ Rolling eyes was good. It meant no one would take it seriously or even bother to talk about it beyond shallow teasing.

After glancing across the court to make sure Asahi still looked steady enough and that Suga and Daichi weren’t giving him the third degree, he stuck by Ryū’s side as often as he could through the drills. So much so that Ukai dryly reminded him that he was a defensive player and to get back to working with Daichi on their receive formations.

Five hours later and Noya was practically leaning on his captain, his lungs hurting from sucking in so much air. He half-heartedly pushed his fringe out of his eyes, the sweat long ago having destroyed the gel keeping them up. The rest of his hair was somehow staying in place. Miraculously.

“Nishinoya, I think there’s more of my elbows left on the court than on my elbows. If you wouldn’t mind collecting my epidermis off the wood, I’d greatly appreciate it,” Daichi mumbled. Noya risked fracturing a rib to laugh.

“That’s disgusting, Daichi,” he said, his whole body feeling like it was floating from sheer exhaustion.

“I know. I had to say something to distract myself from puking.”

“Please don’t puke on me, Daichi.”

Daichi just let out a non-committal grunt that made Noya a bit nervous. He pushed himself up just in time to see Suga dragging himself over to them. The setter gave them a weary smile.

“Good work today, you two,” he said. “Asahi’s taking the first group up to the lodge. Takeda is staying back with us. The ‘we can’t walk in a straight line yet’ group.”

“And Asahi can?” came Daichi’s mumbled voice. He’d pressed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe it.”

“He’s weirdly chipper today. Clearly we haven’t crushed his spirit enough,” Suga said with a little sigh. “Ah – Nishinoya, you can go ahead if you want. Tanaka’s waiting for you outside.”

“Go, Nishinoya. Save yourself. Don’t trip on my elbow skin,” Daichi mumbled, lightly pushing the younger boy forward. Noya took the push gratefully, using the momentum to reach the door. He grabbed his bag and half-fell down the stairs, his legs feeling like pudding shoved into a Ziplock bag.

Ryū was waiting outside, underneath the covered walkway. He cracked a smile when he saw his friend, nearly busting a gut when Noya tripped and had to catch himself by grabbing onto the wall.

“Shit . You too, huh?”

“Me five – god, Ryū, I’ve never been so exhausted,” Noya said, not bothering to hide the happiness in his voice. “I’m pretty sure my nervous system is completely shot. My brain’s. Function. Whatever, somethin’ clever about computers shuttin’ down.”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, you adrenaline junkie,” Ryū said sympathetically, ushering him along. “Let’s get to lodge and food.”

“Lodge and food,” Noya repeated, leaning on Ryū just a bit. “Lodge and food and – and baths.”

“Baths and bed.”

“And food.”

“And fo—we said that one already.”

“Food and bed,” Noya mumbled, closing his eyes. “Don’t let me run into anythin’.”

“What – c’mon, man, I’m exhausted too.”

They quietly bickered back and forth on the short walk to the lodge. The short, uphill walk. It was strenuous enough that it actually managed to stretch Noya’s legs out a bit, and by the time they reached the lodge a lot of his energy had returned. Enough to make an idiot of himself over Kiyoko cooking and to chide his younger teammates into eating more.

He set down his chopsticks and shook his head, glancing down the table towards the younger kids. The bench seats were uncomfortable as hell, and the dining room nearly sweltering, but it was the best he’d felt in weeks. Physically speaking.

“Seriously! It’s amazin’ Tsukishima doesn’t fall over every time he stands up. The guy eats like a chameleon.”

“Catches flies?” Chikara guessed, stabbing a pickled radish.

“With his forked tongue?” Kinoshita chimed in while Narita hid a laugh behind his hand.

“No – like he’s only got one eye that fuckin’ works at a time,” Noya grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “He must only be able to see half this food. Why else would he take so little.”

“Nishinoya, chameleons have two working eyes,” Chikara said patiently.

“I know that! But they’re – y’know.” Noya demonstrated, using his fingers to indicate where the lizard’s eyes would be. “Like that! Fuckin’ – it’s weird!”

“Why the hell would you even start there, though? There’s already set idioms to describe people who don’t eat enough,” Chikara said with a heavy eye roll that was completely uncalled for. Noya opened his mouth to respond but stopped when Daichi approached the table, looking weary but pleased. His hair was dripping wet.

“Hey, you guys. Second years can use the baths now,” he said, sitting down and grabbing a bowl of rice. “Suga and I just went. Ukai wants to talk about something after dinner with us. There’s only four stations in there, though, so you might want to split up.”

“Noya and I will start getting the rooms set up,” Ryū chimed in, standing up. “Hinata asked for help with the futons.”

“Thanks. Sorry to have to stagger like this but last year – well.” Daichi raised an eyebrow and Noya and Ryū took twin steps away from the captain. Daichi snorted and got back to eating. “Yeah, I didn’t think I needed to remind you.”

“No, sir,” Noya said, giving Ryū a little wary grin before they both sped off. Shōyō had already buried himself underneath a thousand futons and was slowly suffocating. They managed to save him, and by the time they got most of the futons all lined up Chikara came to retrieve them. Noya made the required joke about Chikara looking ravishing in a towel, Chikara responded appropriately (by throwing a pillow at his face) and he and Ryū took off for the bathroom. It was a cramped space; only four showerheads in the washing area. The bath itself was rather small, but the tile was clean and blue and made Noya think of the ocean. He quickly stripped and shoved his clothes in the wicker backsets outside. The stools were slimy with soap and god knew what else, so he quickly sprayed one off before he sat down and started washing his hair.

“Nice we get the place to ourselves.”

Ryū settled down next to him and lathered up his washcloth. Noya laughed and reached over to lightly push Ryū, not quite hard enough to unsettle him from his stool.

“Why are you even here? No hair to wash.”

“That gets more and more hilarious each time.”

Noya laughed and was about to squirt some shampoo onto Ryū’s head when the door to the baths slid open. They both froze, Ryū’s hand uncomfortably close to Noya’s crotch.

“A-Ah… sorry…”

Noya immediately turned his back to the door at the sound of the voice, his face red. After a few seconds he glanced over his shoulder, trying to act like he hadn’t just completely freaked. Because of course it would be Asahi. Of course. Daichi had said ‘me and Suga,’ hadn’t he. No Asahi in there. Which meant –

“Daichi and Suga had to shower early, so – is it okay if I—”

Asahi stood in the doorway, fiddling with the towel covering his hips and keeping his eyes trained on the floor. It was painful to watch. Painful for a lot of—

Noya swallowed heavily, his eyes focused on Asahi’s navel.

Asahi had muscles. Kind of a lot of them, contorting his chest, his stomach. Not crazy defined, not as defined as his hip bones jutting over the edge of the ridiculously small towel. Not defined, still definitely there, deep lines marking his skin. It shouldn’t have been surprising – they did a hell of a lot of sit-ups and push-ups and it wasn’t like Ryū wasn’t just as built, albeit more compact but – how had Noya not noticed that last year?

Probably because last year he and Ryū had been too busy setting pranks for Chikara to notice things like musculature. Or how big a teammate’s hand could look when it was clutching a small scrap of cotton fabric or how upper thighs were apparently just as nice to look at on guys as they were on girls. Last year had been all about trying to catch glimpses of Kiyoko, arguing about who had to use the pillow that smelled like ass and pranks that Daichi unwillingly tripped and yelled at them for. Normal, stupid guy stuff and so less criminally complicated. More death threats but that was really the only downside. The pranks had been fun, Kiyoko was a goddess sent to earth to save them, Chikara had nearly thrown up from laughing so hard but now…

How was a year capable of replacing all of that with this adult… bullshit.

Bullshit that was apparently way… way more exciting than stupid guy stuff.

Noya felt like a traitor.

He finally turned his head away, tugging at the washcloth in Ryū’s hands.

“Ryū – fuckin’ – let go, my dignity’s at stake,” he hissed. Hipbones hipbones hipones oh fuck he’d never thought anyone’s skeletal structure was nice to look at before.

Ryū just grinned and then let go of the towel so quickly that Noya fell off his stool. He picked himself back up immediately, dropping the washcloth in his lap. Casual. Right. He could casually massacre Ryū later. Disguise it like a random training camp accident. Those probably happened.

“Sure thing, Asahi,” Ryū said, his voice dripping with affected disinterest. “Here, I’m about done. You can take this spot. All warmed up.”

“Er… thanks…”

Asahi took a few shuffling steps into the shower room. Ryū sat up, but not before Noya hissed, “You deserter.” Ryū just grinned at him and ruffled his wet hair before moving to lower himself into the bath, letting out an exaggerated noise of contentment.

Noya turned to face the fogged, cracked mirror in front of his stool. He kept his eyes fixed on the tiles as Asahi settled in next to him.

Oh. God.

He quickly grabbed the soap and busied himself with lathering up the washcloth, trying not to pay attention to what Asahi was doing. He started washing his arms, flushing when his elbows bumped against Asahi’s. He mumbled a little sorry, and Asahi’s soft, “Don’t worry about it,” made his stomach jump.

God his skin had been slippery.

Noya subtly scooted to the side, pressing his knees together.

Asahi was really. Really naked. Why was he just now realizing that.

“Nishinoya.”

Noya clutched the washcloth against his chest. He looked over towards Asahi, keeping his gaze fixed on his face. Just on his face. His dark hair was falling into his eyes, half-wet and beautiful and wavy. People usually looked terrible with wet hair. It made their skulls stand out too much. Like skeletons. But Asahi didn’t look like a skull. He looked like an incompetent siren. Too shy to lure men to their death, but still stricken with a dark beauty that transfixed people far too much. Without his hair pulled back in its rigid bun his face was exposed. Vulnerable.

It was really hard not to stare.

At his face and. Other. Lower parts.

Noya grabbed the shower head and started rinsing himself off to give his body something to do.

“Y-Yeah?”

Fuck.

He cleared his throat and tried again, pushing his sopping bangs out of his face as he stowed the showerhead.

“Yeah, Asahi?”

Just stare at the mirror. Don’t look at his chest.

“Sorry – I know this isn’t. Ideal.”

Noya glanced over at Asahi, trying to keep his expression neutral. He wasn’t practiced in hiding things. He knew it would be a battle he couldn’t win.

“It’s fine, Asahi. It’s not like we didn’t do this last year,” he said as encouragingly as possible. He took a little risk and even punched Asahi’s bicep. Success at casualness.

“W-Well, true, but last year was a little different,” Asahi stammered, swiping his fingers through his hair. Noya felt his eyes track the movement against his will. Mapping it. Filing it under ‘Things Asahi Does Unwittingly.’ It joined its brothers, ‘Fiddling With Shirt Hems’ and ‘Smiling To Himself.’ All of them did weird things to Noya’s stomach.

“Not much is different,” Noya promised, handing Asahi the soap. The older boy took it with a confused, “Thank you?” before shaking his head and snorting quietly.

“You would think that,” he said softly, filling one of the basins by his feet with water. “But I pretty sure we both know that’s not really the ca—”

A quiet noise from the bath made Asahi suddenly freeze. Noya looked over his shoulder just in time to see Ryū’s head sinking back below the level of the tile. When he turned back to Asahi, it was obvious that the other boy was verbally closed for business. He was scrubbing his hair with a look of fierce determination on his face. Noya let out a little breath and dumped the basin of water over his head that Asahi had filled, ignoring the weak ‘h-hey’ that followed. He refilled it and then quickly stood, trying to keep his back to Asahi as much as possible. Better ass to the face than dick, at this point. Not that Asahi would turn around. Too polite.

“We’ll talk later,” was all he said, before walking over to the bath and pressing his foot against the bit of Ryū’s head he could see. Ryū spluttered before surfacing completely, giving him a sour look.

“Drownin’s a bit harsh.”

“Budge over, I’m shiverin’. And you’ll have to save me the futon next to yours, I gotta—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s cool.”

Ryū budged over to make space for Noya on the tiled bench just underneath the surface. Noya quickly got in, sinking up to his chin just to feel covered again. He listened to Ryū talk about nothing in particular, the small waves his friend’s flailing hand created hitting his nose. He heard Asahi move, the bench scraping against the tile. Asahi moved almost noiseless to the door, the steady padding of wet skin growing soft and softer with each step. Ryū fell silent, quickly craning his neck before the door slid shut.

Noya remained submerged, not moving even when Ryū nudged his leg under the water.

Noya blew a bubble.

“What?”

“Just thought you might wanna know, since you probably never noticed before and are clearly tryin’ to be a gentleman now.” Ryū leaned down to whisper in his ear, his voice gleeful.

“Asahi’s got a huge dic—”

“No!”

Noya shoved his friend to the side and scrambled out of the bath, Ryū’s gut-busting laughter following him all the way to the door. Thankfully Asahi had already vacated the changing room. Noya tugged his shorts and T-shirt on before venturing out into the hallway. It was dark and wonderfully quiet. He saw Shōyō wandering around like a blissfully oblivious horror movie extra, but when he tried to approach the younger boy Shōyō just gasped and darted off. It took a bit of searching to find him again, and thankfully Ryū had cornered him before he’d wandered off into the woods.

Shōyō’s screams, Noya could have done without.

He wiggled a finger in his ear, trying to dislodge the water stuck there. Poor Asahi was quivering behind him, making pathetic, sad noises as Ryū struggled to calm the panicking first year.

“Ryū – just take him back to the room, would you?” Noya finally asked, running his fingers self-consciously through his hair. Ryū could only nod, still fighting off laughter as he lightly kicked Shōyō’s butt down the hallway.

Which left Noya alone with Asahi.

Asahi with his wet-hair and vulnerable expression. In just a T-shirt and boxers.

And of course all Noya could think of was the last thing Ryū had said in the bath.

He quickly tugged his gaze back up to above Asahi’s waistline. Face. Look at his fucking face – okay, neck, fine. Close enough.

Noya swallowed around the lump in his throat and dragged his eyes higher.

Apparently Asahi’s neck was just as damning.

“You hightailed it out of the bath pretty quickly,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “Not a fan of public bathing?”

“Uh – it’s. I’m neutral on it, I guess,” Asahi said slowly. He wandered over to the vending machines, staring thoughtfully at them. “I don’t like inside baths. Soaking in water makes my mind wander to not… great. Places. Open air baths are nice, though. I like the wind and the trees. Stars at night and… it’s nice.”

“Me too!” Noya said enthusiastically, latching onto the safe topic. He moved to join Asahi in front of the glowing machines, debating getting a canned coffee. Caffeine barely affected him; he’d still get to sleep. “And in winter when it’s snowing but you’re all warm and your hair freezes—”

“And your older brother breaks off clumps of it and tells you it’ll never grow back,” Asahi deadpanned, but there was a hesitant smile on his face.

Noya laughed and reached up to tug on a lock of Asahi’s hair. Gently.

“So what you’re telling me is this is a wig you’ve glued to your scalp, right? Just to maintain your rep?”

Asahi winced, but the smile never left his face.

“I’m nothing if not dedicated,” he said, his brow furrowing a bit when Noya’s fingers got caught in the wet strands. Noya made a little ‘ah’ noise and tried to detangle himself, but—

“And clearly your wig is made up of snakes – how is it so tangly?” he said, starting to get a bit too flustered. He tugged again and Asahi immediately flinched and said a sharp, “Ow!”

Noya froze as Asahi’s large hand wrapped around his wrist, carefully extracting his fingers from the twisted strands.

“S-Sorry,” Noya stammered, making a face when a hair stuck to his fingers. It felt weird. Like spider thread.

“It’s okay – Nishinoya, please stop moving,” Asahi said patiently, grabbing Noya’s fingers and carefully easing them away. He let out a heavy breath and stood up straight.

“Sorry. That was probably unpleasant. I don’t think you’re used to dealing with long hair.”

“Just Suzu’s – my sister, in case you couldn’t remember,” Noya said weakly, still staring at his hand. Caught in Asahi’s larger one. Hair still on his fingers. Gross. Gross it should have been so gross but all he could feel was Asahi’s damp skin against his. “I used to braid it. Never when wet, though. She cries a lot whenever my mom tries to comb her hair. She used run and hide after baths and – and that’s a lot of unnecessary family information.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Asahi said immediately. “It’s – oh god there’s – there’s hair stuck to you, hang on.”

He quickly started tugging the strands away, his face bright red.

“Asahi – Asahi it’s okay,” Noya said quickly, taking an aborted step backwards. Hard to flee when your hand was being held –

“Asahi, there you are.”

With a startled wheeze Asahi let go of Noya’s hand and took a few steps away, glancing down the hall. Suga was standing a few feet away, Kinoshita peering curiously over his shoulder. The second year grinned.

“Hey, Nishinoya. Tanaka sent me to get you. Should we put your futon next to the wall? Or have you stopped rolling around in your sleep.”

“I – no, I haven’t,” Noya said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Put it wherever, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Sure thing,” Kinoshita said, the grin still on his face. He leaned up to whisper something in Suga’s ear, and the third year laughed, his pale eyes sliding over to fix on the two of them. Noya tensed uncomfortably and felt Asahi do the same.

“Suga, did you need me for something?” Asahi finally said. His voice was wavering a bit too much to be normal.

“Ah… I mostly wanted to make sure you weren’t terrorizing any of the other first years,” Suga said, giving Asahi a little smile. It was slightly devious. Noya felt a few prickles of unease. “Tanaka said that poor Hinata was rather startled. First by this one—” he gestured politely to Noya, “—and then by you.” Slightly less politely towards Asahi.

“I – no, I’m not,” Asahi mumbled, running his fingers self-consciously through his hair. He quickly tugged an elastic off his wrist and pulled half his hair back, away from his eyes.

Suga raised an eyebrow in amusement and turned to Noya.

“He’s not keeping you up, is he? We can’t have our valuable libero sleep deprived.”

“No! No, he’s not,” Noya said quickly, throwing Suga a smile. “We were just talking about – hair.” He winced. “I mean bathing. Nope that’s – worse, sorry. We were just talking. It was fun!”

“Hair and bathing. Very thrilling, masculine topics. How exciting for you,” Suga said, obviously fighting back a laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Have him home by nine, Asahi.”

“Suga…”

Suga just laughed and then leaned forward to whisper in Noya’s ear, “Whatever you’re really talking about with him, keep it up. You guys did awesome in practice today.” Noya felt his whole face flush and could only say a polite, “Of course,” in response. When Suga stood up straight again his smile was less maniacal. He ruffled Noya’s hair, which made Noya feel simultaneously two centimeters tall and the size of a mountain. Suga’s affections had that effect on people.

“Sleep well when you get there, Nishinoya. The rest of us are turning in, I think.”

“Okay,” Noya said happily, returning Suga’s grin.

“I promise I won’t trip over you this year, Suga,” said Asahi.

“We put your futon at the end of the room against the closet, so you’d better not,” Suga threatened, raising an eyebrow at Asahi. He turned and gave a little wave over his shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late, you two.”

“I’ll have Tanaka put your phone under your pillow,” Kinoshita promised, pausing to give Noya a little high five. “Night, Nishinoya.”

“Night, Kinoshita.”

Noya waited until the other two had turned the corner before letting out a relieved breath. He glanced up at Asahi.

“So, it’s just us, I guess.”

“Suga’s an insomniac so he’ll be up a little later,” Asahi said quietly, turning back to the machines. He stared longingly at a bottle of tea. “…If I weren’t so scared of accidentally stepping on someone I’d go back to the room and get my wallet.”

Noya laughed and dug around in his pocket for some change, slotting it in the machine.

“Here, my treat,” he said, pressing the button for the jasmine tea. Asahi made a weird, choked noise.

“Nishinoya – you didn’t have to—”

“No one ever has to, Asahi,” Noya said, crouching down to retrieve the bottle. He popped back up and held it out towards the other boy, grinning. “That’s kind of the point.”

Asahi stared at the bottle for an unnecessarily long amount of time before slowly taking it. He glanced around and then said quietly, “Well, thank you. And – if it’s not too much trouble—”

“Asahi, please talk to me about your date, I am actually going to die of impatience if you don’t,” Noya said seriously.

Asahi let out a little puff of air that was probably a laugh in a less-nervous life. He tilted his head to the side for a moment, obviously thinking, before he turned and started walking towards the exit, draining the tea as he went. He offered some to Noya, but Noya just made a face and shook his head.

“No thanks. Not sweet enough.”

“Not sweet – well that’s. Unsurprising,” Asahi said. “But thanks. For this and for talking. I know it’s late but I won’t keep you. I promise.”

“I don’t mind being kept,” Noya said, immediately making a face. “You know what I mean. Where are you going?”

“There’s that veranda next to the baths on the second floor. It’s far away enough that eavesdropping shouldn’t be an issue.”

Noya laughed, his heart pounding a bit in excitement. Private balcony talk. It was like out of. Uh. Shakenspear. Or whatever. Still kind of clandestine and exciting.

“You really are paranoid, aren’t you?”

“Oh, incredibly,” Asahi said dryly, pausing at the top of the steps before hurrying down the hall. He tossed the empty tea bottle in a recycling bin as they passed. Noya followed after him wordlessly, stopping by their room just to peek inside. It was dark. He could hear Ryū snoring. Good.

He quickly caught up with Asahi just as the older boy slid open the veranda doors. Asahi jumped when Noya gently touched his back, and Noya had to clamp his hands over his mouth to keep from laughing.

“Go, Asahi.”

“I’m going…”

Asahi stepped outside, and Noya could see him shivering in the early spring air. He followed, not minding the chill, and slid the door shut behind them. He paused and then tried the door again to make sure they weren’t locked out. When it moved, he let out a little breath and took a moment to inspect the site.

The veranda stretched along the western side of the lodge. At the other end were poles for laundry, but they were all empty. The wooden railing went up to his chest and Noya quickly pushed himself up to peer over the edge down into the garden.

“Oh cool, you can see the tree tops… I guess it’s not that impressive considering they’re just those gnarled plum trees…”

“Nishinoya, careful…”

Noya looked over his shoulder, studying Asahi’s nervous face. His hair was still falling into his eyes. Escaping the loose elastic. Desperate to make Asahi look more rugged, maybe. To match the stark moonlight throwing his features into comic-book levels of relief.

Noya slowly lowered himself down and turned to face Asahi properly. The older boy’s nervous expression had melted away. His brown eyes were narrowed slightly, trained on Noya’s face before slipping up to glance at the moon.

There was a moment. A heartbeat when Noya could read Asahi’s guarded expression. A quiet pause, a soft exhale. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the lines of his neck moving with the subtle motion.

Noya recognized the hyper clarity, why he was so fixated on the details of Asahi’s movements. It was the second after a blocked attack. That infinitesimally small window in which he had to react. The window that loomed so large in his primal brain, sent flashes of electricity down his arms, his legs, made his eyes sharper and his hearing dull, cutting out the senses that weren’t needed.

And yet now he couldn’t react. Couldn’t move, he was a slave to his own focus. He watched Asahi take a few steps forward, bracing his forearms against the top rung of the wooden banister, peering down at the trees below. Noya expected him to flinch back, make a startled noise. But Asahi regarded the trees with an eerie calm, and Noya wondered why, exactly, Asahi had panicked over him doing the same.

The wind blew gently, tugging Asahi’s hair up into a soft, lazy dance. Asahi smiled.

“They must look beautiful when they’re flowering.”

Noya felt himself shudder at the sound of Asahi’s voice, and it took everything he had to say, “L-Leaves are pretty too.”

Asahi laughed and gave him an appreciative smile that went straight to Noya’s

Heart.

“They are,” he agreed, tilting his head back to stare up at the moon. “The forest was really pretty too. Where I was yesterday. We should go together.”

Noya swallowed and moved to stand next to Asahi. His skin prickled. He was close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Asahi’s arms.

“Good enough that you’d want a repeat experience.” He laughed around the slight bitterness in his throat. “Guess I don’t need to ask how it went again. ‘Nice,’ right?”

Ryū’s words echoed in his head.

Nice wasn’t failure.

A slight breeze tugged at his shirt and he shivered at the damp, holding completely still when he felt Asahi’s arm press against his. It could have been a mistake. Asahi shifting. He shouldn’t read too much into it. Ryū was right, nice wasn’t failure. He shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“You can go inside and get a sweatshirt if you’re cold. I don’t mind waiting for you.”

Noya felt his heart rate pick up.

Or maybe he should.

“It’s fine. I don’t get cold,” he said finally. “I’m just—”

Nervous. Terrified, excited. Hopeful. A little crushed, but he was ignoring that part.

“—damp.”

“Damp,” Asahi repeated softly. There was laughter in his voice. “I see.”

Noya raised an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

“You’re stubborn,” Asahi said, gently nudging his arm against Noya’s. “You always have been.”

“I’m really not cold, Asahi!” Noya laughed, returning the nudge. “And even if I were, I’m not about to leave. You’ve been wanting to talk all day. There’s no way I’m about to bail just to get a dumb sweatshirt.”

Asahi’s eyes widened slightly before he shook his head.

“Stubborn,” he said again, turning to stare at the trees.

Noya watched Asahi watch the trees. He had such a strong profile. Strong nose, jaw looked like you could take a sledgehammer to it and the sledgehammer would lose. Long eyelashes. Thick sideburns. Like an extra in a samurai movie. One of the guys designed to be cut down from the side and look beautiful as he fell.

Noya propped his chin in his hand and simply watched Asahi. The wind buffeted his dangling wrist, gently tapping it against Asahi’s every now and then.

“It really is different.”

Noya blinked. The deep voice had startled him out of the silence he’d nurtured.

“What is?”

Asahi held up his hand, his fingers curled lovingly around the moon suspended in the sky.

“I told you this morning that… that I was happy.”

Noya tilted his head, closing one eye so he could peer up through the circle of Asahi’s thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, you did,” he said, just a bit grudgingly. “The date went that well, huh.”

“It was fine,” Asahi said absently, his thumb blotting out the moon. “He was nice.”

“Shingo?”

“Yeah, Shingo. He was nice. And the mountain was nice.”

Noya scowled and lightly elbowed Asahi’s side, freeing the moon from its thumb prison.

“You don’t get ‘happy’ from just ‘nice,’ Asahi. He can’t have been that boring. You wouldn’t have given him the time of day if he were.”

Asahi let out a heavy sigh, his hand falling to rest on the banister again.

“Unfortunately, I seem to be kind of… weak. To that type. Boring, I mean. They make me feel safe. I like knowing what to expect, I like – nice. I’m supposed to like nice. It’s calming, it’s secure, but…”

Asahi hesitated, his fingers lightly tapping against the pitted surface of the railing. Noya waited patiently, his fingernails digging into his palms. Quiet. He had to be quiet, it wasn’t his turn yet.

Asahi licked his lips, and then spoke, hesitant at first, but his voice slowly gained strength.

“When Shingo said – when he offered to go mountain climbing with me, I didn’t… I didn’t want to, at first,” he said quietly. “I had this strange gut reaction. I wanted to tell him that no, climbing mountains is something I do with Nishinoya. But then I worried that if he asked who Nishinoya was and all I could say was ‘my teammate,’ that that… it would be a weak excuse. So we went hiking and climbed a mountain and…and when we got to the top and I turned and it wasn’t you that was following me, I realized that I’d been with some… some stranger all day, acting like a stranger myself. And I could have been spending it with you. The least – the least… stranger to me I know. Being myself. And I thought – I thought god, I’m such an idiot. Why am I wasting my time with this? Why am I climbing mountains and forcing myself to make small talk. When – when we climbed that mountain there was no room for talk. There was no need for it; there was just this – this rush! This drive and – and I know you felt it. I know you saw me, really saw… saw how terrified and exhilarated I was.”

Asahi let out an unsteady breath, his hand moving to scrub at his face.

“I’ve always been bad at being comfortable with myself. I’ve tried so hard to change, to look a certain way, act a certain way. Act worthy of – of something. I would have settled for anything I was so desperate. And I always felt like I failed, even the easiest of tests until all I could see was that failure and nothing – nothing that I’d cultivated. But that’s – I think that’s why you frighten me so much, Nishinoya. How comfortable you are at being with me. At being with my flaws. I know the kind of patience and tenacity it takes to put up with me because I don’t – I don’t possess that myself. Before I met you I didn’t believe there was anyone who did. And I can’t hide from you, I can’t hide anything from you and it’s terrifying – you make me so… so scared. Petrified that I’ll disappoint you, that I’ll make you upset, that I’ll spend my whole day forcing myself up a mountain and turn to find that you’re… not there.”

He lowered his hand and turned to face Noya. His eyes were dark, set deep in his skull. Hair plastered to his forehead, sticking in weird clumps that the breeze tried in vain to free.

Noya felt his knees shake. His legs threatened to fail him as Asahi simply looked. Stared hopelessly and resolutely at him. Enlightenment dawning slow and beautiful across his face.

“It should have been you, Nishinoya,” he said in quiet wonderment. “To get to the top and not find you there… It was so horribly… horribly lonely. Empty and… wrong. I don’t want to do it again. I can’t… do it again.”

Asahi blinked, suddenly, and the fire bled out of him. He rubbed his bicep and offered the empty spot above Noya’s left shoulder a weak smile.

“Sorry. I know that’s… it’s intense and weird and not… not what someone like you probably wants to hear—”

“I wanted it to be me, Asahi!”

Noya threw out the words in a frantic gamble, trying to catch hold of the trail of Asahi’s sincerity before it was buffeted away by the wind. Asahi took a step back, surprise flitting across his face. Noya took advantage of his shock, let go of the minutes of patience he’d been bottling up.

“I wanted it to be me, Asahi,” he said again, feeling the weight of each word on his tongue, clacking against his teeth as they left in a sudden burst of ardor. “I didn’t want to share you. Your climbs, your disasters, your adventures that – that never even get started. I know there’s other people, that I’m just a teammate – f-friend now, I guess. But still I haven’t earned anything, I’ve barely earned back your trust. But if you do start forward then please don’t – don’t leave me behind.”

He buried his hand in his hair, the excitement of that morning twisting suddenly into a burst of fear, of anger that he was afraid, terrified to be honest when it cost him nothing. It was just him and Asahi and the wind and the dumb gnarled trees that weren’t even blooming.

“I don’t want some stranger there,” he bit out, his chest aching at the thought. A physical ache like a cinderblock had landed on his ribs, grinding him down and threatening to crack them all. “I don’t want some stranger there, Asahi. Not when I feel like – like I’ve been pushing you for so long trying to get you to understand. Not – not in an arrogant way, but just pushing you towards this peak that has your name carved into it. Waiting for you to get to the top so I can grab your arm and point and finally make you see that Asahi – Asahi your name is carved into the goddamn rock! You don’t need some mediocre guy from your gym or an upperclassman who’s going to make you feel ashamed of yourself or even – even a disrespectful libero who gets on your case too much! You can take on these climbs, these mountains by yourself; you don’t climb them because of me. You pull me along, you challenge me. I’m – I’m so in awe of you, Asahi. I didn’t carve your name into the peak. This height that you’ve reached – who you are, what you’ve accomplished. It’s yours. It belongs to you.”

Noya swallowed heavily and dragged his forearm across his eyes. It came away damp from the cold.

“Is… what I should say,” he said lightly, unable to meet Asahi’s eyes. He was shaking. Fuck it was cold, he was shaking so badly.

“I don’t think I’m usually a selfish person. Which is why I was so confused when I realized that I wanted… I wanted it to be mine, too. I want to climb with you. Get to see your face when you finally realize how much you’re worth. But if you make it up there with someone else, then…”

He let out a burst of laughter, wincing at how off-kilter the noise sounded.

“Fuck – fuck that would suck so bad,” he said lightly, tugging at his hair. “I’d hate it, I’d really hate it, it makes me feel on edge and kind of sick just thinking about it, and I hate that I can’t let this go.”

He lowered his arm and lifted his gaze to Asahi’s pale face. Asahi was staring down at him, wary now. He wasn’t seeing. He wasn’t getting it—

“…It’s you, Asahi!” Noya said desperately, at a loss for how else to voice it. “You’re the one standing there on the summit; you’re the one pushing me, making me better myself! I know you can’t see it, I know you can’t believe it but you have no idea – no fucking idea how badly I’m trying to reach you right now.”

He stood still, chest heaving as he regained his breath. He could feel the splintered floor of the balcony digging into the soles of his feet. Anchoring him in place as the wind carried his words away. Dropped them unceremoniously over the balcony edge when Asahi didn’t catch them.

Noya freed himself and took an experimental step forward, not liking when Asahi moved back just a bit. Maintaining the distance. He looked frightened. Suddenly Noya really didn’t want him near the railing. He knew Asahi’s propensity to look for the shortest escape route.

“Please don’t run, Asahi.”

“I’m trying not to,” Asahi said.

“There’s a railing behind you.”

“I know – it’s kind of hurting my hip.”

“So take a step forward.”

“I can’t.”

“There’s plenty of room, Asahi. You can take a step—”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?!” Noya suddenly snapped, frustrated and hurt that all Asahi wanted to do was run.

“Because I’m tired of being unfair to you!”

Noya blinked in surprise, staring up at Asahi. The other boy’s cheeks were flushed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“…What?”

Asahi shook his head, even as he said again, “I’m tired of being unfair to you, Nishinoya. I – I never stopped to listen to your feelings. Even now I don’t – I have no idea what to do with them. How can you think those things about me? How can you put me up on a pedestal like that—”

“I’m not putting you up on anything–”

“What do you want from me?! You can’t honestly think that, you can’t – everyone likes you, you’re friends with every single person crammed into those rooms down there. Why are you even here—”

“Because I like you!”

Noya clenched his jaw, owning the words with a steadfast resolution. He could feel his body shaking. Adrenaline, cold. Apprehension.

“I like you,” he repeated. “I don’t care that it’s childish. I want to spend time with you; I want to be with you. Pretty much all the time, I want… I want to be with you.”

Asahi was frozen, his eyes wide as he stared dumbfounded at Noya.

“…You… you do,” he said slowly.

“Yeah,” Noya said simply. “Kind of a lot.”

Noya took a step forward, reaching out quickly to grab Asahi’s sleeve and keep him from taking a step back into the balcony railing. Really wasn’t any place left for him to go but down.

“Careful.”

“Y-Yeah – sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

Asahi slowly straightened up, not fighting Noya’s hand on his sleeve.

“I don’t… really understand,” he said finally. “We haven’t even been – we haven’t known each other outside of the team for that long.”

“I don’t care,” Noya said immediately, finding comfort in the uncomplicated words. Asahi opened his mouth again – probably to protest – but Noya didn’t give him a chance.

“I don’t care,” he repeated stubbornly. “We’ve been hanging out, you’ve bought me way, way too much food. I haven’t met your family yet or anything but you invited me over to your house so. I’ve met future Mrs. Azumane – not god, not your wife, you know what I mean. Your mom. Mrs. Azumane Senior—”

“I can promise there will never be a Junior…”

“But you get me, right?” Noya said, ignoring Asahi’s nervous commentary. “We’ve been doing all that stuff. I want to keep doing that stuff with you. I want to meet your family, I want – I want to see your house, to spend time with you at school, eat lunch together and not – not have it be just because we’re teammates. So now the only thing I really want to know is to know – okay, fast-forward, past all the shopping arcades, the game centers, the weird outfits you somehow keep wearing that I’m not totally convinced your sister-in-law put together for you because she’d have to be really on top of things—”

“She’s married to Jun, my brother who bought five different school uniforms just so he could have four spares pressed at all times—”

“—maybe she is, okay. Still really – really fucking confusing to see you like that, admittedly, but anyway _anyway_!”

Noya took a step forward, holding on to Asahi’s T-shirt as tightly as he dared.

“Fast-forward, make the brrrrrh noise like an old VHS tape—”

“How do you even remember what those sound like?”

“I know what things sound like!” Noya said impatiently. “Fast forward! We’re here, on this splintery balcony death trap, we know each other. I know what I want, Asahi. I’ve known since a half-hour ago and that’s plenty of time for someone like me to make up his mind. I know what I want. So now all I need – all I want, all that’s left is for you to say what you want.”

Asahi looked frightened. His body was shaking slightly and Noya could feel that he was still pressed against the banister. Noya let go reluctantly, taking a step back to give Asahi some breathing space. Asahi took it gratefully, his hand moving to press against his chest.

Noya eyed him silently for a moment, letting him catch his breath. But his nerves were running out. And the moon was starting to fall far, far too low in the sky.

“…What do you want, Asahi?” he repeated quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t be mad. I won’t chide you or belittle whatever you say. I just want to know.”

Asahi rubbed his hand against his chest, his large frame sinking in on itself. Brown eyes darted up, meeting Noya’s for a moment before he looked at the floor again.

“…I want – I want to not. Take things from you, Nishinoya,” he said softly. “Or demand them. Whether it’s your time or your… y-your… like. Of me. As mystifying and bizarre as it is to me, I don’t want to just… take it. I did that once already and—and I hated how it made me feel. What it almost did—I can’t… I won’t do it again.”

Noya silently weighed his options for a moment before he said a quiet, “Fine.”

He let out a breath and stepped forward again, reaching out his hand to rest firmly against Asahi’s cheek. He felt the other boy inhale sharply, the skin against his palm rough and scratchy.

“Then I’ll do it for us,” he said. “Asahi, there’s nothin’ left to doubt. Not when it comes to me. For the first time in – in an embarrassingly long time my head’s clear. So clear I can feel my fuckin’ ancestors gettin’ pissed, ‘cause they know that when Nishinoyas decide somethin’ they’re really damn obstinate. So I’m gonna erase that doubt. Even if the conclusion that you come to doesn’t involve me, even if ends in you just acceptin’ the stuff I’ve told you. Not fightin’ it anymore. I don’t want you to doubt yourself. And I really… really don’t want you to doubt me.”

His fingers twitched against Asahi’s skin, ready to pull back if Asahi started to flee. It was what he expected, what experience with Asahi and a thousand sitcoms his sister made him watch on Saturday nights had dictated should happen.

But instead Asahi lifted his head. His dark eyes were solemn as he regarded Noya, his head leaning slightly into the touch. Thinking. And Noya felt his chest tighten at the gravity in Asahi’s expression. At the realization that Asahi was seriously listening. Not to whatever whispered to him and kept him up at night, pinged against the light of his anxious thoughts like malicious, vindictive insects.

But to him.

Only to him.

Noya felt himself step in closer, unable to look away from Asahi. Feeling the pull like gravity, completely, utterly incompressible to him in theory. All he could do was blindly submit and hope it kept him tethered.

“…Do you believe me, Asahi?”

Asahi’s lip trembled. He nodded, once. Slow and grave before he let out a quiet, desperate groan and all but begged, “God – N-Nishinoya, can I kiss you?”

Noya felt himself laugh. Heard the noise, heard himself say ‘you’d better’ in a breathless, relieved voice. Barely had time to feel liberation and giddiness before Asahi’s lips were against his, dry and chapped and warm. He wasn’t sure who’d started it – if he’d leaned up or if Asahi had simply pulled him flush against his chest, all he was aware of was Asahi kissing him, breathing his name in a soft, hopeless voice, thick fingers buried in his damp hair and lips pressed hotly against his own.

No wall against his back.

No morning sun of the mountain.

Noya wrapped his arms around Asahi’s neck, his feet leaving the splintered floor until he was balancing on the balls of his feet, Asahi’s hand against his back keeping him from falling. Lips parted clumsily, the slick glide of Asahi’s tongue against his making his breath come in sharp, warm gasps and a feral heat curl in the pit of his stomach.

“A-Asahi,” he groaned, his fingers burying in the soft strands of hair at the nape of the other boy’s neck. “Asahi – Asahi…”

He felt Asahi swallow, heard him whisper “Nishinoya…” his name tumbling from Asahi’s swollen lips. The pulse of sound made Noya tug Asahi down again, a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep within him as he kissed Asahi, made him say his name until they were both laughing, giddy and almost plummeting from the balcony.

Noya pressed his forehead against Asahi’s, listening to him catch his breath. Their noses bumped whenever Asahi inhaled.

It was different.

He stole another quick kiss, biting back a snort of laughter when Asahi tried to return the favor and missed, his lips catching the corner of Noya’s mouth.

It was different. So different from the wall against his back. Even different from the mountain and the soft, comfortable distance between them. It was tangible, something he could peel away, carve, find a name in hidden underneath the innocent surface. Not Asahi’s, not his.

Something different.

Something theirs.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals week IS TERRIBLE AND NO ONE IS SURPRISED. But look it’s a chapter! All my friends have been contributing to asanoya so much lately I felt like a huge slacker HOPEFULLY THIS MAKES UP FOR IT SOMEWHAT. Even though it’s just. Fluff. That’s. Seriously all it is I’m sorry you’ll have to look elsewhere for plot.  
> ENJOY BUT DON’T FORGET TO STUDY you know who you are (it is me it is always me. write your article, me)

“Ryū.”

The lump under the covers didn’t stir.

Noya redoubled his efforts. He prodded the lump roughly where its throat would be. It was hard to see in the dark.

“Ryū.”

The lump groaned. It batted at him.

Noya shifted his attack a few degrees. Increased strength by 175%.

“Ryū.”

“Guwargh!”

Noya quickly clamped his hand down over Ryū’s mouth, glancing around the darkened room. The nine other lumps didn’t move. Thankfully.

Noya sat back on his haunches, letting his friend push himself up. Ryū blinked and stared blearily around before focusing on Noya.

“Man… that was my eyeball,” he mumbled, scrubbing at the injured area. “And your fingers are bony.”

“I need to talk to you,” Noya said immediately, keeping his voice low. “And sorry – I was aimin’ for your larynx.”

“Glad that anatomy book is comin’ in handy,” Ryū muttered, but his eyes were narrowed. And not just from swelling. Hopefully. “Somethin’ up?”

“Yeah – c’mon, let’s go to the vendin’ room. I need a coffee.”

“Noya it’s eleven at night—”

“I know what I’m about, Ryū.”

Noya heard his friend sigh, but a moment later he was picking his way carefully across the room with him.

“Kageyama snores, by the way,” Ryū muttered. “No one saw it coming.”

“I brought earplugs.”

“You’re a fuckin’ genius—”

“I brought some for you, too.”

“We’re already married, Noya, you don’t need to keep seducin’ me.”

Noya pressed his finger against his lips as Tsukishima started to stir. His was the last futon before the door, and once they were out in the hall Noya let out a relieved breath. He gestured for Ryū to follow him and padded down the hall towards the vending machines. He slotted in the money and got a coffee for himself, melon soda for Ryū. He handed the drink over and Ryū accepted it with a tired, “Thanks.”

Noya cracked the tab on his coffee and drained it all in a few gulps. The can made a satisfying thunk noise as it fell to the bottom of the recycle bin. Noya waited as long as he possibly could, and the moment Ryū finally lowered his soda and said, “What’s up,” Noya relinquished his iron-clad restraint.

“We kissed!” he blurted out, his voice cracking from excitement.

Ryū blinked slowly and then craned his neck to look at the recycle bin.

“You and the coffee can?”

“No – no, idiot, no me and Asahi,” Noya said excitedly, keeping his voice as quiet as he possibly could, but it was a losing battle. “Ryū – Ryū we fuckin’ kissed we fuckin’ kissed he kissed me—”

“This is the worst sort of déjà-vu,” Ryū said slowly, still staring at Noya.

“What? Oh – no, it was mutual this time. Like crazy – crazy mutual oh fuck I like him so much,” Noya babbled, pacing around the small space. “And when he kissed me it was like – like bwarrrgh god just tongues everywhere and he kept touchin’ my back and man Asahi’s lips are crazy warm and dry and kind of cracked which makes them kind of sound like a lizard—”

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved my heterosexuality more.”

“—and he likes me – he fuckin’ – he. Argh I hate that I have to be quiet this is not in my nature!”

“Shh – keep it down!” Ryū hissed, quickly clamping a hand over Noya’s mouth. Noya immediately surrendered but pushed Ryū’s hand away.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine – Ukai’s room is right there, rein it in a little more, maybe,” Ryū muttered, giving Noya an odd look. He finally raised an eyebrow and grinned. He held out his hand.

“Quiet high-five.”

Noya laughed and gently tapped his palm against Ryū’s.

“The quietest.”

“And congrats, man. That’s – admittedly kind of a sudden, weird twist of fate to me, but cool. So he’s into you? In a gay way?”

Noya furrowed his brow. “I mean he didn’t get like… a hard on or anythin’ if that’s what you’re sayin’— ‘least not that I could tell. He was super into the kissin’, though—”

“That is most definitely not what I’m sayin’,” Ryū said quickly, his cheeks turning a bit red. “I mean so – I was wrong? He’s into you like – fine, like in a datin’ way?”

Noya opened his mouth to say yes of course but then suddenly paused as he realized—

“I don’t know.”

Ryū stared at him.

“…What.”

“I don’t think we are,” Noya said, laughing. “Or maybe we are, I don’t know. The conversation kind of got away from me and then – then he either asked if could kiss me or I asked if I could kiss him– I don’t really remember and to be honest I don’t fuckin’ care! ‘Cause we kissed! And it was like – holy shit, no wonder people do that that was fuckin’ amazin’.”

“…Dude, you should care if you’re datin’,” Ryū said, sounding a little alarmed. “When did this even happen?”

“I dunno, fifteen minutes ago? We were makin’ out for a bit—”

“Gross.”

“—and then Asahi got a splinter in his foot and was freakin’ out about it gettin’ infected so he hopped all the way to the bathroom and I almost cracked a rib I was laughin’ so hard and then I came to find you and now we’re here talkin’.”

Ryū raised an eyebrow. “So you just abandoned a splinter-riddled Asahi in the bathroom?”

“He told me to go to bed!” Noya protested. “He said he’d see me tomorrow and – uh I dunno I can’t remember what else. I sort of kissed him again.”

“Fifteen minutes into actually kissin’ someone and you’re obsessed.”

“Hey, you know me. I don’t half-ass stuff. And Asahi’s a crazy good kisser. Made up for how absolutely awful I was at it. Did you know that tongues, like – they need to go somewhere when you kiss? And you gotta tilt your head, dude. I’m pretty sure my nose is broken from the initial collision.”

“All helpful tips that I’ll file away for later, I promise,” Ryū said, leaning against the wall. His subdued posture made some of Noya’s enthusiasm leave him. He let out a little breath to try and calm down and then cautiously approached Ryū.

“So… yeah. I guess that puts me firmly in the ‘bein’ with dudes is a thing I like’ camp,” he said awkwardly. “If there was any doubt left.”

“Huh? Oh – yeah, it does,” Ryū said, starting a bit. “But I’m pretty sure we established that. Even though you’ve only talked about the one guy I’m assumin’ it’s transferable.”

“…I mean, Suga’s pretty hot,” Noya said, feeling his face start to burn. He cleared his throat and pressed a hand over his eyes, embarrassment taking over for a moment. “Okay, apparently I’m not really ready to go projectin’ my appreciation for other dudes in a gay way just yet. I’ll get there.”

“Gotta believe.”

Ryū rubbed the back of his head, his cheeks slightly pink. He glanced at Noya, and Noya saw the question coming a thousand miles away.

“So, uh… am I—”

“You’re crazy hot,” Noya said firmly, narrowing his eyes. “Seriously, you’re gonna make some equally-hot chick ridiculously happy someday. I mean, your sister’s pretty attractive too, so it must be genetic—”

“God—don’t compare me to my sister!” Ryū yelped, socking Noya in the shoulder. Noya stumbled, laughing before he threw back, “Why not?! She’s smokin’ hot, man!”

“She’s my sister!”

“Yeah well she’s not mine! Biologically, anyway, and that’s the only time incest counts!”

“You call her ‘sis’ too you fuckin’ creep!”

“Out of respect, not biological necessity!”

“A-Ah… Nishinoya, Tanaka?”

The soft voice made them both freeze. Takeda was standing in the middle of the hallway, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry – sorry to interrupt your… ah… your debate, but it’s… it’s rather late, and the two of you have… decibel issues,” Takeda said delicately. “And Ukai—”

“You tell them off yet, Teach? This beer’s gettin’ lukewarm!”

“U-Ukai – we really shouldn’t advertise that,” Takeda said nervously, poking his head back into their room before glancing at Noya and Tanaka again.

“You two should get to bed. You have another long day tomorrow, and I’m sure today was exciting as well.”

“More thrilling for some than for others,” Ryū said lightly, patting Noya on the shoulder. “Right, Nishinoya?”

“Ryū—not in front of Take,” Noya mumbled, giving his teacher a disarming grin as they passed. “We’ll go right to sleep, promise!”

Takeda laughed and gave them both a warm smile before making shooing motions. “Go quickly, before Ukai vents his wrath again.”

“Ha? What’re you sayin’ about me, Teach?”

“Open another beer for me, would you, Ukai?” Takeda called out, giving Noya and Tanaka a little wink before disappearing into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Noya followed Ryū down the hall, unable to keep from skipping. His friend hit him on the back of the head. Gently.

“You nerd – you’re gonna wake everyone up. Daichi’ll yell.”

“Worth it,” Noya said cheerfully. “Totally – oh, shit, I should probably go rescue Asahi. He’s kind of scared of tweezers so I bet he’s still in the bathroom tryin’ to summon the courage to yank the splinter out of his foot.”

“Ugh. Asahi and I share that fear,” Ryū muttered, pitching his voice lower as they approached their room. “Fuckin’ splinters are the worst. So goddamn creepy how they just slide into your skin. Almost as bad as shots.”

“Oh right – you aichmophobe.”

“I cannot believe you looked up the word for ‘person afraid of needles’ just to fuck with me.”

“It’s a cool word – and Latin’s used in horror movies a lot okay so it’s cool and not geeky.”

“It’s geeky as hell, bro, you’re just in denial.”

Ryū clapped him on the shoulder and stopped in front of the door.

“Right, go save your makeout buddy. You’ve got the futon next to mine on the end, Asahi’s across from you next to Daichi. Try not to kick the wall in your sleep. And if you roll on me I’ll probably try and murder you, but it’s just the exhaustion, don’t take it personally.”

“You got it,” Noya said cheerfully, giving Ryū a little salute before flicking his forehead. “And don’t call him my makeout buddy, that’s. Accurate but crass.”

“Crass—where the fuck do you learn these words,” Ryū muttered, rubbing his forehead as he slid the door open.

“Elementary school calligraphy class, motherfucker. Go sleep.”

“Motherfu – Daichi seriously is going to buy us team earplugs someday, I can feel it. Oh, speakin’ of which, I’m rootin’ through your bag to get those earplugs you promised so tell me now if you brought anythin’ gross.”

“Nothin’ gross. Inside pocket, next to my wallet. There’s exactly two thousand seven hundred nine yen in there please only take a thousand at most.”

“You got it. Don’t step on me.”

Ryū slunk into the room and the door slid shut behind him. Noya listened for a moment to make sure they hadn’t woken anyone. When no yells or loud cursing followed Ryū’s entrance, Noya deemed the sneak a success and headed off down the hall to find Asahi.

The crack under the door to the boy’s bathroom was all aglow. Noya slid the door open and poked his head inside, laughing when he saw Asahi balancing with one foot atop a sink. The older boy started terribly at the noise and spent a few comical seconds grabbing the tweezers out of mid-air before they fell on the floor. He turned to face the door, a harried expression twisting his features.

Noya’s heart still gave a happy jump. Even though Asahi was pale and kind of sweaty from splinter-nerves.

Fuck he was cute.

He really wanted to kiss him.

“Nishinoya – god you scared me,” Asahi said, leaning down to examine his foot again.

“Sorry – voice is already loud, guess echoing doesn’t really help,” Noya said apologetically, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Not so much.”

Noya moved to hop up on the sink next to Asahi. He glanced down at his foot, his eyes widening.

“That’s so much blood,” he said slowly. “Why’s there so much blood?”

Probably should hold off on kissing until after Asahi stopped hemorrhaging everywhere.

And not in a public bathroom.

Right, subtlety was a thing he was going to have to learn fast.

God damn.

“Had to dig it out,” Asahi muttered, holding up the tweezers, his eyes still trained on the sole of his foot. “These are blunt. Shrapnel kept getting left behind.”

“Shrapnel – you’re making it sound so cool.”

“It is cool. I have a fucking tree in the bottom of my foot. This is practically a superhero origin story.”

Noya burst out laughing, quickly clamping his hands over his mouth to suppress the noise.

“You cursed,” he said, honestly delighted.

“I’m grumpy,” Asahi muttered, setting the tweezers down and grabbing a bottle of hydrogen peroxide that was balanced on the edge of the mirror shelf. “I – tonight was great and then. Tree. And I’m in pain and worried about going to practice tomorrow with this.”

“Ah…” Noya winced. “Yeah – here, lemme do that.”

Asahi glanced between the bottle and Noya for a moment before cautiously handing it over.

“Just make sure to pour it on the wo—AH!”

Noya glanced up at Asahi’s face, hydrogen peroxide still flowing down the bottom of Asahi’s foot.

“Hurts?” he asked.

Asahi grit his teeth.

“A little.”

Noya grinned and then turned the bottle upright, capping it. “You’re pretty hot when you’re in pain, Asahi.”

Asahi gave him a startled look before grabbing a towel and dabbing it against the tiny wound.

“I didn’t – I know I comment on it sometimes but I didn’t think you actually had a sadistic streak towards me,” he muttered, fiddling with the plaster box.

“I don’t!” Noya laughed, leaning back against the mirrors. “I honestly don’t – it’s just really similar to your concentration face. And – uh.”

It was probably a little early in their… whatever to be divulging shit like that.

Noya kept the rest of the comment to himself.

“…Anyway, it’s small. I think you’ll be fine,” he said lightly. “I’m surprised you got it out, though. I was expectin’ you to be like Ryū and take an hour just to get a tiny piece of wood out.”

“Tanaka’s not a fan of splinters either? And – I don’t know. I made my mind go blank and just… did it. That’s what usually ends up happening. I panic myself into not caring and then I can do it.”

“Yes, Ryū, like the rest of the world, is not a fan of splinters. And ah – yeah, that does sound like you. I’m pretty sure that’s how Taka psyches himself up to eat nattō and spinach. His face gets all scrunchy and adorable.”

“What child likes nattō, though? If I were seven and presented with a Styrofoam container full of rotting soybeans I’m pretty sure I would abandon all hope.”

Noya laughed again, Asahi’s dry, terror-exhausted humor making him feel incredibly calm and warm. He watched Asahi bandage his foot in silence, content to study the older boy’s grave expression for a while longer.

“Ryū knows. By the way.”

Asahi paused, his large fingers crinkling the plaster wrapper. He finally gave a sharp nod and moved to the trashcan to throw it away.

“I figured. It’s fine. I would have asked you not to tell if – I. I know he’s. Important to you.”

“He is.”

Noya hopped off the sink, gathering up the first-aid supplies and following Asahi to the door. “He’s cool with it, obviously, but I thought you should know.”

Asahi’s lips warped into a slight frown for a fraction of a second before he nodded.

“Thank you. I – it. It’ll probably be a while before—”

He suddenly stopped and gave Noya an odd look, his slippers dangling awkwardly from his fingertips.

“Wait – wait, what did you tell him, exactly?” 

“What happened. Where’d you get this first aid stuff, by the way?”

“I brought it with me. So just—just that we, uh…” Asahi glanced around and then bent down slightly. “Kissed? Or…”

“Yeah… that we kissed,” Noya said slowly, raising an eyebrow. “He already knows I like you, Asahi. That’s the only news there was left to tell him. And seriously? You brought an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide?”

“He knew before me? I – ah. I… right.” Asahi quickly straightened up again, glancing off to the side. “I knew that already, I think. And yeah, I did. We’re an accident prone group and as responsible as Suga and Daichi are they sometimes neglect the basic tenets of wound care.”

“Oh my god,” Noya said in delight. “Asahi – Asahi you’re such a neurotic dork. How are you our ace?”

“I don’t know,” Asahi said miserably, scrubbing at his face. He took a little step forward and mumbled, ‘ow.’

Noya laughed quietly and rubbed Asahi’s back, lightly pushing him forward.

“It won’t hurt tomo—it won’t hurt as bad tomorrow,” he promised. “And if it does then I’ll back up whatever story you make up to keep Suga from gently tormenting you.”

“He’ll probably just assume I stepped on Tsukishima’s glasses and sliced open my foot,” Asahi muttered, walking gingerly down the hall. “I simply won’t correct him.”

“If you stepped on Tsukishima’s glasses then why is he still wearing them tomorrow in this delightful scenario?”

“Because being the neurotic dork that I am, I obviously memorized his prescription and prepared a backup pair for when the inevitable glasses destruction occurred. I kept the glass buried in my foot. It was the only place I could hide the evidence.”

Noya pressed a hand against his mouth to stifle his snort of laughter. They were in front of their room. He could hear Ryū snoring softly. And every so often a louder, more horrible noise. Probably Kageyama.

He moved to open the door, but a gentle touch to his wrist stopped him. He glanced up at Asahi, raising an eyebrow at the unsure look on the older boy’s face.

“I still like you, Asahi,” he said reassuringly. “It’s okay that you’re a dork.”

“What? Oh – no, it’s – thank you, by the way, you’re really nice – it’s not that.”

Asahi frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing a bit with concern.

“I know we ended things a bit – uh. Without much talking after the fact,” he said awkwardly. “So if… are you… okay? With – with how. We didn’t talk much after the fact?”

Noya almost said yes automatically, but then he caught himself and forced his brain to think. He made a slight face and then nodded slowly.

“I’m okay, yeah,” he said finally, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. Doubtful anyone could hear them over the god-awful snoring though, even if they had their ear pressed to the door. “As long as – I’m assuming at some point we’ll talk. Ryū already asked if we were going out. It felt weird not being able to say yes or no. So yeah I’d like to talk about that at some point.”

“Ah – you didn’t say yes?”

Asahi sounded lost.

Noya tilted his head to the side, feeling his cheeks start to color a bit.

“I – we never said…”

He lost the thread of confidence he’d managed to find. The rest of his words unraveled.

“…I guess we didn’t,” Asahi said finally, letting out a little breath. He dragged hand down his face, muttering so softly Noya barely caught it, “Good work, Azumane. Zero for two.”

Noya rolled his eyes and gently rapped his knuckles against Asahi’s sternum.

“One for two,” he corrected. “I just reminded you that I like you. I can do it again if you want, but to be clear, I don’t need a label to enjoy mutual – shenanigans.”

“It makes me a little uncomfortable, though,” Asahi admitted quietly. “I don’t like not knowing where we stand. But now’s – obviously now’s not an. Ideal. Time. To discuss it.”

“Yeah, hovering in a hallway where the only thing between us and our entire team is a paper-thin door,” Noya muttered. He suddenly stuck out his pinkie on impulse, offering Asahi a smile.

“Tomorrow night, after practice. We’ll be all grown-up and talk, yeah?”

Asahi’s expression softened. He wrapped his pinkie around Noya’s without hesitation.

“Yeah. It’s a deal.”

His eyebrow slowly crept towards his hairline. He tugged their joined hands up a bit, his eyes widening.

“I – uh.”

He suddenly let go, his cheeks red. Noya tilted his head to the side, wiggling his pinkie to see if there was anything wrong with it.

“What?” he asked, bemused.

Asahi mumbled something to himself before he gently took the first-aid things from Noya.

“Your fingers are really… they’re. They’re not as delicate as they look,” he finally said. “It’s nice. Not that—I’d be fine with delicate fingers. Still attached to you! Obviously. Not – not just. Severed. Fingers. You know what I mean. Let’s go to sleep.”

He quickly slid open the door and nearly stumbled inside, tripping over the slight rise of the tatami mats. Noya took a moment to reign in his silent laughter before following after Asahi, sliding the door shut behind him.

He carefully picked his way across the room. Light from a cell phone charging in the corner made it possible to see how all the individual futon were spread out. He finally got to the end of the line and flopped down onto his. He immediately buried his face in the scratchy pillow, but after a moment lifted his eyes to watch Asahi get ready. The dark curtain of Asahi’s loose hair obscured his face. His shoulders were so broad they engulfed Noya’s vision.

Noya propped himself up on an elbow, wrinkling his nose when Asahi checked his phone. It made the older boy look like a ghost.

“You sleep with your hair down?” he whispered.

Asahi nodded, turning off his phone and plunging their little portion of the room into darkness.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, settling down and tugging the covers up. “Sometimes I get a headache from wearing it back all the time.”

“Sucks,” Noya said sympathetically, lying on his stomach again with his chin propped atop the back of his hand. “Before I figured out that gel was a thing I almost made myself pass-out from two minutes of continuous hairspray spraying. Dad came in to find me trying to escape the fumes by crawling out our bread-loaf-sized window.”

“I’m almost scared to ask how old you were,” Asahi whispered, choking back a laugh. He rolled onto his stomach as well, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“This may or may not have been the summer before my first year of high school,” Noya said solemnly, reaching out to push a bit of Asahi’s hair that had fallen on the tatami back towards his futon. 

Asahi hid his face in his pillow for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. When he came up for air he cleared his throat and said soberly, “I’m glad you didn’t aerosol yourself to death before we met, Nishinoya.”

Noya could feel his cheeks burning again. He silently thanked the Buddha that the room was dark and there was no way Asahi could tell.

“Yeah, me too,” he mumbled, cautiously letting his hand rest on the bare space between their futon. Just within Asahi’s reach. “Would’ve sucked trying to play volleyball from beyond the grave.”

“I’m sure you would’ve come to some sort of deal with Lord Enma,” Asahi said quietly, his hand moving out from underneath his pillow to alight next to Noya’s. “The judge of the underworld likes guys who can make him laugh, I hear.”

Noya pressed his face against the pillow again, feeling the tip of Asahi’s thumb brush against his. It sent a little jolt down his arm. Made his toes curl.

“Ah – yeah, or Jizō could just bail me out,” he mumbled. “Bodhisattva in charge of escorting kids out of hell. I keep my hair down and I bet I could fool him.”

“I – maybe. I don’t think you look— you’re a bit too… uh. N-Never mind.”

Noya lifted his head, trying to make out Asahi’s expression in the dark. The older boy was curled up half on his side, his hand still splayed out atop the tatami in what looked like accidental disarray. No one else would be able to guess it was on purpose.

“…I look what, Asahi?”

Asahi curled up a bit more before he let out a sigh heavy enough that Noya could see the covers move, even in the dark.

“You really don’t look like a kid to me at all, Nishinoya. But Bodhisattvas don’t… they probably don’t see you the way I do. At least I hope – u-uh. Okay. Let’s – let’s just. Sleep. Please. Good night.”

Noya ran his hand self-consciously over his hair before hunkering down in the bedcovers again, his stomach twisting happily. He moved his hand just a bit closer to Asahi’s, the slight bit of contact like an anchor that tugged him down into a warm, comfortable exhaustion.

“…Night, Asahi,” he murmured, his thumb moving to brush over the soft skin of Asahi’s palm.

He heard the other boy stir, his deep voice slipping over the polished reeds between their beds.

“Good night, Nishinoya.”

Strong fingers turned to gently thread through his own for just a moment before they parted again to a more innocent distance. 

Noya let out a little breath and forced himself to lie still, imagining he could feel Asahi’s heartbeat through their fingertips whenever they touched. It tugged him towards sleep. Step by step with every pulse.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, not wanting to sleep. Not yet. Too much had happened, he should be an adult and think about these things, thing them through more, or—

When Noya opened his eyes again it was still dark out, but the air was different. Damper. Heavier. 

Someone’s phone alarm was going off. A weird, creepy melody that made him feel like he was being stalked in a horror movie.

Noya carefully pushed himself up, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He fished around under his pillow for his phone and checked the time.

Five A.M.

He made a little face and flopped back down, reaching out to see if Asahi’s hand was still there. When his fingers met warm skin he relaxed and closed his eyes once more.

For the first time in his life, five A.M. seemed utterly repugnant.

The lump next to him stirred. Ryū’s hollow voice drifted out from underneath the covers.

“End. Me.”

“No,” Noya murmured back, rolling over until he was half squashing his friend. “I realize my crushing you may be confusing. But this is not a killing crush. It is a wake-up crush.”

“Noya – god how do you weigh so much when you’re so tiny,” Ryū groaned, half-heartedly attempting to push himself up. He fell back against the futon, giving up.

Noya lifted his fist in tired victory. He felt Asahi’s fingers twitch against his. He quickly rolled off of Ryū and scooted forward towards Asahi a bit. The other boy had tugged the covers over his head in his sleep. Just a few tendrils of his hair were sticking out. Noya gently tugged on one, laughing when the lump that was Asahi let out a resigned mumble of, “No, Nishinoya…”

“You can’t even see me. How’d you know?” Noya quietly laughed, letting go of Asahi’s hair. 

“No one else would be stupid enough to risk pissing me off in the morning.”

“Asahi, you’re not scary when you’re tired,” Noya said gently. “You just look kind of sad and lost. Like a child in a department store.”

“…I can be scary,” Asahi mumbled, tugging the covers up more.

“Yeah, you can be. But not when you’re tired.”

Noya lightly pressed his foot against Asahi’s shoulder blade, giving him a little shake. Asahi whined and curled up like a hedgehog trying to escape. Noya laughed a bit louder, nimbly dodging the pillow that was chucked at his head. He hadn’t seen who’d thrown it. Probably Ryū. The others were starting to stir as well. Suga was lightly kicking Daichi. Kageyama looked ready to slam someone’s head into the wall. Noya quickly looked away, not wanting to make eye-contact. That seemed a good way to avoid being picked as the sacrifice.

“Look how petulant he is. It’s amazing,” Ryū said in tired wonder, leaning against Noya. He stretched his foot out towards Asahi. “May I?”

“Gently,” Noya cautioned, biting back a grin. “Asahi’s ‘scary,’ remember?”

“Oh yes, terrifying,” Ryū droned, giving Asahi’s shoulder a little shake. “Like a Care Bear.”

“Is his bun the little bear tail?”

“Wh- oh my god. Mr. Nishinoya, you are correct. His bun is indeed the little bear tail.”

“God – I’m up!” Asahi snapped, pushing himself off the futon. He turned to glare at the two of them, obviously not impressed by their laughter. Noya did his best to calm down and sat cross-legged, saying politely, “G-Good morning, Mr. Azumane.”

Asahi’s cheeks turned slightly red. He pushed his mussed-up hair out of his eyes and mumbled, “Good morning, Nishinoya. Tanaka,” before he stood and began making his wobbly way towards the door. Noya immediately sprang up as well, tugging on Ryū’s shirt.

“C’mon, I gotta pee so bad.”

“And what role do I play in this – geez, Noya, you’re gonna stretch out my shirt just wait a sec!”

Ryū clambered to his feet, lightly nudging the first-years as they passed each one. Hinata had managed somehow to jam himself next to the wall in the middle of the night, and Noya took pity on him. He crouched behind the first year, gently patting his back.

“Shōyō! Oi , Shōyō, that’s the wall you’re lickin’.”

“Hu—wuh?”

Noya gave Hinata’s shirt a little yank to dislodge him. Hinata landed on his back with a little ‘oof’ and stared blearily up at him. Noya grinned down at the younger boy, nudging him again.

“Mornin’, sunshine. You have a bit of plaster on your face. Can you wake Freckles and get him to wake up Glasses?” He glanced down the room at Tsukishima, who as far as he could tell, hadn’t so much as twitched during the night. His covers barely had a wrinkle in them.

“Huh? Oh… okay…”

Hinata slowly pushed himself up, yawning widely. He gave Noya a bright smile that made Noya’s heart melt a little. He looked kind of like Taka when he just woke up. Wide-eyed and confusedly cheerful. It made Noya reach down to ruffle his hair, and Hinata just grinned wider.

“Tsukishima is probably going to want to hit things,” Noya said gently. “I think it’s in his nature. So make sure to duck.”

“Oh – I’m good at ducking, Noya, I promise,” Hinata said solemnly.

“Good man.”

Noya straightened up and jogged over to where Ryū was lecturing Kageyama about not being a dick in the morning. Kageyama was staring sullenly at the wall. Noya had a feeling he wasn’t absorbing anything Ryū was telling him, but whatever.

“C’mon, it’s our turn for the bathroom. Go go go.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’. Remember, Kageyama! A smile at five AM means a good practice will follow! It’s in the Rig Veda!”

“The what,” Kageyama said sourly.

“Goodness. Children these days, so ignorant about Hindu mythology—All right, Noya, I’m goin’!”

Noya braced himself against the small of Ryū’s back, pushing him forward and not stopping until they were out of the room. He straightened up and lightly flicked Ryū’s ear as he passed.

“The only reason you know what the hell that is is ‘cause it was in a game we played. Don’t tease Kageyama about bein’ dumb, man. You know how bad it feels when Chikara does it to us.”

“Chikara teases out of a hope to inspire, just like I do,” Ryū grumbled, rubbing his ear. He shoved his feet in a pair of toilet slippers and stumbled up into the bathroom. Noya followed, quickly relieving himself before starting his morning routine. Teeth, face, hair. The first two took a minute and a half. The last one—

“Noya, it’s been ten minutes.”

“I’m almost done!” Noya protested, carefully tugging the few strands of his fringe down to cover his forehead. 

“I’m tellin’ you, man. Buzz cuts are the way to go.”

“You’ve seen pictures of me as an infant – you know I have a weird skull, I’d look terrible!”

“He’s right, Tanaka. Objectively he would look terrible.”

“Thank you, Captain, glad you have my back,” Noya said cheerfully, washing his hands free from gel before turning to greet his upperclassmen. “Morning Daichi, Suga!”

“Good morning, Nishinoya,” Suga said, giving him a pleasant, albeit tired, smile. He frowned suddenly. “Asahi’s not with you?”

“No – he’s up, though,” Noya promised, gathering his things. “I’m not sure where he went off to. Do you guys need me and Ryū to do anything?”

“Just make sure the first years are up,” Daichi mumbled, staring at himself in the mirror. He tugged at the bags under his eyes. “…And see if the breakfast downstairs includes coffee.”

“First years and coffee, we’re on it!”

“Oh god he’s so loud even without the bathroom echo amplification…”

“Chin up, Daichi. No, seriously, Daichi, chin up you need to shave and you’re going to Sweeney Todd yourself at this rate. You look ill-kept.”

“Suga no one gets your references this early in the morning…”

Noya laughed as he kicked off the slippers, taking a moment to line them up before following Ryū back to the room. 

“Right!” he said eagerly, rubbing his hands together as they stood in front of the door. “Wrangle the first years! The sacred duty given to us by our captain!”

“May we see the task dutifully to the end,” Ryū said solemnly. They both grasped the door, meeting eyes for a moment before nodding.

“Ready, Mr. Tanaka?”

“Of course, Mr. Nishinoya.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They yanked the door open, ducking immediately when a barrage of pillows came flying their way. Hinata was hiding behind Kageyama, who was in turn yelling at a very angry Tsukishima. The taller boy was brandishing two pillows in front of himself like a shield. Poor Yamaguchi was obviously trying to defuse the situation, to little avail. His cheeks were so pale his freckles were standing out.

All four froze when Ryū loudly cleared his throat and took a step into the room.

“Children,” he said gravely. “What the hell.”

The first years exchanged glances before three of them burst into speech, each obviously trying to talk over the other while Tsukishima stood sullenly off to the side. He wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“—and I told him I didn’t put them anywhere!”

“There’s no way Tsukki would misplace them! You probably broke them when you were flailing around in your sleep!”

“You didn’t have to sleep next to Kageyama – do you have any idea how loud he is?! I had to escape it was a safety hazard!”

Noya frowned slightly and then on a whim crossed the room to Suga’s futon. He lifted a corner of the pillow and sure enough—

“Oi, Tsukishima! Come get your glasses!”

The three first years shut up. Tsukishima furrowed his brow but walked forward and held out his hand expectantly.

“Why are they there?” he muttered as Noya dropped the glasses into his outstretched palm.

“Suga worries,” Noya said, patting the taller boy’s arm. “He did the same thing last year with my DS. I totally freaked until Asahi found it for me.” Tsukishima looked a bit ill, but muttered a little, “Oh,” and then headed towards the door.

Hinata’s cheeks turned red and he pointed a finger at Tsukishima.

“H-Hey!” he stammered. “You yelled at me! I got hit in the face with a pillow—”

“It’s nothing you’re not used to.”

“—and – h-hey!” Hinata puffed up like an angry duckling and took a little step forward. “I don’t like bein’ called a liar! Or a thief!”

“Tsukki didn’t call you a thief—he just asked where his glasses were!” Yamaguchi protested, moving to Tsukishima’s side.

“Yamaguchi. Volume.”

“Ah – s-sorry.”

“Tell you what.”

The first years fell silent again, staring expectantly at Ryū. He grinned and pointed to the lot of them. “Go brush your teeth and get all hygienic. Then you can come back here and all four of you can put the futon away. Ennoshita’s crazy picky about how it’s done ‘cause he’s a type-A bastard, so you’re all gonna have to pitch in. Then we’ll get breakfast and walk to the gym together. Okay?”

Kageyama looked like he wanted to protest, but when Ryū said, “Okay?” again in a slightly strained voice the younger boy nodded and muttered, “Okay.”

The rest of them all dutifully repeated the sentiment before shuffling out the door. Noya watched them go and then turned to grin at his friend.

“Shit,” he said approvingly. “You’re gonna be an amazin’ dad. Or a really weird, strict uncle.”

Ryū’s face immediately turned bright red. He bent down to start kicking the bedclothes into a pile.

“Y-You think?” he stammered. “I mean – fuck that’s – weird.”

“I meant it as a compliment,” Noya said, crouching down to gather up the pillows.

“I know how you meant it. Still weird. You’re not even turnin’ seventeen for, what… four more months? And – uh…” His face turned pale. “…Don’t – don’t let Hinata know he’s only three months younger than me, okay? I’ll lose all my cred.”

“What – oh my god really?!”

“Shh! God – keep it down,” Ryū said in a mortified voice. “I’m serious, Noya, he can’t know.”

Noya just nodded, too afraid to open his mouth to say anything. He’d start laughing and Ryū would probably punch him. He wordlessly crossed his heart and then continued stacking pillows.

“What’re you doin’ that for? The first years are supposed to—”

“They’ll never get it done in time or to Chikara’s specifications. Just helpin’ them out a little,” Noya protested, standing up reluctantly. 

Ryū shook his head and opened his mouth to say something else when a flurry of noise outside in the hall announced the first years’ return. He sighed and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“All right, you go check and see if there’s coffee. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“They’re your kids too – would it kill you to spend some time with them, etcetera etcetera obligatory married joke. Go before Daichi returns and gets all grumpy.”

Noya laughed and skirted out of the room, barely avoiding being clobbered by Tsukishima’s giant arm as he passed. He trundled down the stairs, pausing only to stop by a room that looked interesting. Small hallway connecting to the garden, from the look of it. There was a little bridge in the middle and an artificial stream running through it from the garden outside. A few folding screens made the space feel lost in time. Like a movie set in Kyoto.

Noya lingered for a moment longer, listening to the water from the stream stumbling over the rocks.

Asahi would like it.

With a little grin he took off towards the small breakfast area. Ennoshita and the other second years were already there, and by the rice cooker in the corner—

“Asahi!”

Asahi jumped, his bowl nearly flying out of his hand. He stared at Noya before raising a hand in silent greeting.

“You’re five feet away from him, yellin’s unnecessary.” 

Kinoshita’s exhausted, judgmental voice hovered around Noya’s head for a moment before he batted it away and sprang to Asahi’s side.

“So there’s a room with a river in it that they probably don’t want us to go into which is why the door’s been closed this whole time but you should go in there,” he said excitedly. “It’s pretty.”

“Ah – a river?” Asahi repeated, carefully heaping rice into his bowl. He held it out towards Noya. “You usually take this much, right? Here.”

“Oh – uh, yeah, thanks,” Noya said, taking the bowl and grabbing some chopsticks. “And yeah it’s a river but don’t worry, you’d have to work pretty hard to drown in it.”

“Not… exactly what I was thinking but always good to know,” Asahi said, taking another bowl and starting to fill it. “Trays are to my right. There’s fish and pickled vegetables and soup. And I heard something about croissants and fruit but you should try and get protein—”

“Remember when we got those donuts?” Noya said wistfully, grabbing a tray for himself and reluctantly taking a bit of fish and salad.

“I do remember those donuts,” Asahi said, grabbing some food for himself as well. “I, uh… maybe have a loyalty card there, now.”

“A loyalty – oh my god how many points do you have?!”

“What? I – I don’t know – twenty? Thirty?”

“Oh my god – oh my god we could pool our points – there’s this clock that’s shaped like a lion and I really, really want to get it for Suzu! Lions are her favorite but I can’t eat enough donuts to get enough points for it by myself—”

Noya bit his tongue to keep from saying anything more. And to keep from spilling his soup.

“Ah – only if you want to, I mean,” he said, offering Asahi a little smile. “Sorry, I get—”

“Way too loud!” Chikara said, hucking a grape tomato at him. Noya managed to catch it and let it plop down in his own salad.

“Enthusiastic,” he corrected. 

Asahi glanced between the two of them and then laughed quietly.

“I don’t care,” he said, lightly bumping his shoulder against Noya’s. “To be honest I only have the card because the person at the register asked me if I had one. I panicked, lied, said yes, and when they held out their hand and asked for it so they could add on the points I had to lie again and say I’d lost it. It. It was an event. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Noya burst out laughing, having to lean against Asahi to keep himself from spilling anything. He could picture it all too well, and when the older boy mumbled, “It’s not that funny,” all he could do was shake his head and gesture helplessly.

“Dude, he’s right. It’s not that funny.”

Noya blinked tears from his eyes and grinned at Ryū, who was looking kind of pissed—

“Oh shit! Shoot – ah, the coffee, I totally forgot, I’m sorry!”

Ryū let out a little sigh and lightly flicked his ear.

“Yeah, I figured,” he muttered. “Is there any? I can send one of the kids up to tell Daichi before he goes Godzilla and destroys the place.”

“There is,” Asahi said before Noya had a chance to say he didn’t know. “I already set aside a cup for Daichi with his… surprising number of sugars in it. Don’t worry.”

“…Thanks,” Ryū said, giving Noya an unimpressed look. “Nice to know you have my back, Asahi.”

“I’m afraid it’s my fault Nishinoya got distracted,” Asahi said apologetically. “I started talking about donuts and—”

“And he started going on about that lion clock he wants to get…” Ryū finished, glancing at Noya in exasperation.

“Asahi has a loyalty card,” Noya mumbled, feeling more than a little guilty. 

Ryū rolled his eyes very slightly before grabbing a tray. “As long as I’m not gonna be yelled at by Daichi, it’s cool.”

“I doubt he’ll even notice you,” Asahi promised, giving Noya an apologetic glance. “He’ll go straight for the coffee and only speak after he’s ingested most of… it…”

Asahi trailed off as Daichi and Suga entered the little breakfast area. He motioned with his head for Ryū and Noya to move behind him, and then took a little step forward. He carefully guided the glowering captain towards the coffee with a timid, “Morning, Daichi,” that sounded off to Noya. 

And when Asahi turned to give him a small grin over his shoulder and mouthed, “Save yourselves,” Noya felt a sudden rush that he’d been able to see through the act of exaggerated timidity. 

He gave Asahi a rakish salute in return and quickly dragged Ryū away to sit with the other second years. He could hear Daichi muttering into his coffee and Suga needling him about his addiction. Noya picked at his fish, waving off Ryū’s comment of “Seriously? You’re finally eatin’ somethin’ that’s not covered in sugar for breakfast?” and returning Chikara’s gentle kick under the table. It was familiar. It was nice and warm and comforting. 

But when he looked up from the table and noticed Asahi stealing glances at him, that quiet warmth started to burn a bit too hot in his stomach. Every time he’d have to turn away. Busy himself with normalcy until the feeling passed.

And he realized suddenly how weird it was that no one but Ryū knew. There was this huge secret, part of their team dynamic had changed so, so drastically not seven hours before.

And no one but Ryū knew.

The thought worried at a little corner of his brain all through practice. Not enough to distract. Just enough that during downtime he’d find his gaze wandering over to Asahi, wondering if anyone could tell. Asahi wasn’t acting any differently. Still composed during drills. A complete mess afterwards. And unlike the little stunt with Daichi that morning, none of it was exaggerated.

At least not that Noya could tell.

But every so often Asahi would land from a spike, let out a slow breath in recovery, and glance up. He’d push a few strands of hair out of his eyes as they absently scanned the gym. When they’d alight on Noya he’d relax, the tension leaving his shoulders and he’d sort of… space out for a few moments until the next spiker in line yelled at him to get out of the way. And then he’d blush and jog over to the other side to retrieve his ball and Noya would sprint over to get it first just so he could hand it over and feel Asahi’s fingers tremble when they touched his.

It was the worst kind of self-imposed torture. Next to fingertip-pushups.

Practice took an actual. Age. Lunch was spent in a dazed blur of fatigue, and the second half was more of the same.

When they finally broke for dinner, exhaustion caught up with Noya in a sudden flood. He wobbled over to the side of the court and simply sat for a few moments. He stared at the wall, reveling in the comforting, drained feeling. Meant he’d pushed himself as much as he possibly could. It was nice to feel rewarded. 

A shadow appeared on the wall. Large and imposing with its hair all messy and sticking up weird. Noya tilted his head back, butting it gently against Asahi’s shins.

“I’m very tired,” he said happily.

“I might fall on you,” Asahi warned, sweat rolling down his nose and neck and soaking his shirt collar.

Noya opened his mouth to reply, but a drop of sweat landed on his forehead. He burst out laughing and headbutted Asahi’s legs again.

“Gross—holy shit that’s so gross!” he laughed, tugging up his T-shirt to wipe at his face. He couldn’t remember which one this was. Probably ‘schooled through adversity,’ that had been the last one he’d shoved in his overnight bag. It was old. He could remake it.

“Nishinoya – Nishinoya oh my god I’m so sorry,” Asahi said frantically, kneeling down and lightly patting his shirt-covered fingers against Noya’s forehead. “I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s a drop of sweat, Asahi. In case you can’t tell I’m sort of dripping with the stuff as well,” Noya said, but he sat still and let Asahi fuss over him. He could see Asahi’s stomach. Tan – why was his skin so tan, did he lie out in the sun half naked. Light muscle definition, soft curls of hair just under his navel, leading down to the band of his shorts—

Noya quickly averted his eyes as footsteps approached, his cheeks red. Shit he had to get his staring under control. Or Asahi needed to shave his stomach until he could get used to the idea of finding lower-stomach hair so appealing. Fuck.

“What the hell are you doing to poor Nishinoya?”

Suga’s amused voice made Noya inwardly groan. Great. The smartest person on the team. Suga was probably going to be the first to figure it out.

Especially if Asahi didn’t stop touching his face.

“Asahi contaminated me with his sweat,” Noya explained, looking up at Suga when Asahi finally sat back. “He was attempting to remedy the situation.”

Suga raised an eyebrow. “By rubbing you with his disgusting shirt.”

“Y—… Yes,” Asahi said slowly, pushing himself to his feet. “I thought it might be preferable – for some… reason.”

Suga gave the other third year a bizarre look before turning it on Noya. Noya just held out a hand, laughing when Suga automatically reached up to help him to his feet.

“Thanks, Suga.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but you’re just as weird as he is, Nishinoya,” Suga said with a little sigh, lightly ruffling his hair. “I thought you might be a good influence.”

“He is a good influence,” Asahi protested. “I’m not puking from the stress of having embarrassed myself. I’d say that’s progress.”

“…You did puke a lot our first year,” Suga said, returning the grin Noya gave him. “You should be lucky you didn’t meet him until he was a more stable second year, Nishinoya. You never would have gravitated towards him. His hair was ridiculous, for starters. Even worse.”

“…What was wrong with my hair.”

“It was fluffy. It looked like you had a phantom blow dryer following you around, pointed at your forehead at all times.”

“Oh my god,” Noya said in delight. “Do you mind if I steal your yearbook at some point, Suga?”

“Not at all.”

“Please no.”

“He also called Daichi by his last name. He was terrified of him at first. I think he thought he was a teacher on the first day they met. He started babbling and I’m pretty sure a ‘Mr. Sawamura’ slipped out a few times.”

“Oh my god.”

“Suga! Come on – he doesn’t need to know this stuff…”

“I most definitely do need to know this stuff,” Noya insisted, sticking by Suga’s side as the third year headed towards the door, Asahi trailing after them. “Suga you’re a fountain of amazing knowledge, thank you.”

Suga laughed and picked up his water bottle, his pale eyes shining in amusement. “Well I don’t know about that, but thank you,” he said, glancing up at Asahi and raising an eyebrow. “You really should learn to divulge your own nerdy past, Asahi. That way you control the information. Who knows what else I might let slip to poor, impressionable Nishinoya.”

“I’m really not that impressionable, Suga—”

“He’s so young, Asahi. His mind is like a sponge. Ready to absorb all information.”

“If that were true I’d probably be better at math.”

“All information he deems interesting and useful.”

“That is closer, thank you, Suga.”

Asahi gave them both twin looks of exasperation, his eyes flickering slightly in what had to be an aborted eyeroll. It was the closest Noya had ever seen him come to completing one.

Noya immediately burst out laughing, glad when Suga followed suit a split-second later, pressing a hand against his forehead.

“Asahi’s evolving! He’s learning sarcasm –we’re all doomed.”

“I’m not – you keep picking on me and every time I try to defend myself you get all… verbiage!” Asahi protested, staring at Suga with a wounded look on his face.

“Verbiage –”

Suga dissolved into laughter again, bracing his forearm against the wall. Noya took advantage of the third year’s distraction to offer Asahi a gentle touch to his forearm. He quickly pulled away while it could still be passed off as an accident, but the way Asahi’s eyes lit up and the self-conscious way he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear made Noya’s chest tighten with happiness.

“Asahi—”

Noya bit his tongue, making a frustrated noise. Dammit he wanted to say nice things, but that wasn’t his role in practice. He debated for a moment longer, but a warm pressure against the top of his head made him glance up and abandon thoughts of wording. 

Asahi’s large hand rested lightly against his hair. The older boy smiled and Noya felt the necessity of speech leave him. Why did they even try bothering with words around others when they could get away with shit like this. Pass it off as easy camaraderie.

“Sorry again, Nishinoya,” Asahi said, his voice the same soft one from the balcony. “I won’t – hover and be generally disgusting next to you anymore.”

“I seriously don’t care,” Noya said firmly, glancing up from underneath the vast expanse of Asahi’s palm looming in his vision. “Don’t feel like you need to apologize every time you sweat on me or we might have to have some awkward conversations late—”

“Asahi, you’re going to crush his brain with your gigantic loaf hands,” Suga interrupted, flicking Asahi’s arm until he moved away with a petulant but relieved, “Ouch.” Noya let out a little breath and fixed his hair, absently hoping Suga hadn’t heard that last part of their exchange. He didn’t seem to have, thankfully, since he was manhandling Asahi towards the door by tugging on his shirt. 

“Dinner’ll be here soon. Coach wants you to help move the tables.”

“With my big loaf hands,” Asahi muttered, giving Noya a sad little wave as he was tugged out the door.

“Yes, exactly. Really it’s a compliment.”

“You have this weird way of doling out compliments to me that make them sound almost—”

“Right, everyone outside! The Tanakas will be here in ten minutes.”

Noya perked up at that. The Tanakas?

He glanced around the gym, quickly finding Ryū and jogging over to him as fast as his exhausted legs would allow.

“Your parents are comin’? With dinner?!” he said excitedly.

Ryū held up a finger towards Kageyama, saying a quick ‘hold that thought’ before turning to Noya.

“Yeah – you know they catered the final day last year,” he said, a proud grin on his face. “But this year we’ve got the Nekoma match so they wanted to do it early.”

“Is Sis gonna be there too?”

“Nah, she’s got shit to do. Just got a text from Mom complaining about what an ungrateful generation we are,” Ryū said with a sigh. He turned back to Kageyama. “Anyway, a faster release would help, probably. I’ll try and adjust my approach.”

Kageyama nodded firmly, but he was staring curiously at Ryū.

“Yes, I’ll – try.”

“His family owns a restaurant,” Noya explained, prodding Ryū in the small of the back to get him to walk. “Let’s go let’s go you know Narita’ll eat all the tamago if we don’t stop him.”

“He’s going to puke again isn’t he. It’ll be yellow. Just like last year.”

“We have the power to stop this from happening, Ryū. It’s like Quantum Leap.”

“What?”

“Back to the Future.”

“Oh right. Sorry, bro, didn’t mean to drop the verbal-spar ball.”

Noya glanced over his shoulder as he heard someone following them. A perturbed Kageyama was trailing back a few steps, his dark blue eyes flicking back and forth between them like he was tracking a play.

Noya slowed his steps a bit to let the younger boy catch up. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

Kageyama started a little, his lips pressing together in a stubborn frown before he shook his head.

“You two speak your own language,” he muttered. “It’s confusing.”

Noya exchanged confused glances with Ryū.

“…Pretty sure we’re speakin’ standard dialect…” Ryū said slowly.

Kageyama let out a frustrated noise.

“No, it’s not – I don’t understand how you can… how you understand each other without –”

“Kageyama! Coach says there’s gonna be sushi!”

Hinata’s loud voice from across the gym made Kageyama tense. His hands balled into fists at his sides and he quickly snapped, “I know! Everyone knows, it’s old news!”

“Boo! You’re such a jerk,” Hinata yelled back, sticking out his tongue as he darted over. He came to a screeching halt in front of Tanaka, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet.

“Your parents really own a restaurant?” he asked excitedly. “With tables and everything?”

“Yeah, Shrimps, they do,” Ryū said, his lips twitching up in a grin. “Tables and all. Why d’you ask?”

“Because that’s – that’s so cool,” Hinata breathed, vibrating with enthusiasm. “There’s a kitchen?!”

“Yup.”

“Waiters?”

“Yu – well, me, mostly, but yeah, we got some,” Ryū said, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“So you do schoolwork, club practice, and you have a part time job?” Kageyama interrupted, staring at Ryū with a slightly suspicious look in his eye.

Ryū raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not totally unheard of,” he pointed out, hopping down the steps. “But my mom’d argue I don’t really do enough of that first one.”

“His mom’s a hardass,” Noya said sympathetically, following his friend out of the gym.

The loud blast of a car horn made Noya jump and Ryū groan.

“Oh god – they’re here already,” Ryū muttered, glancing down at Noya. “You’ll come be my buffer?”

“’Course,” Noya promised, quickly grabbing hold of Hinata and Kageyama’s sleeves before they could get away. “These guys’ll chip in too!”

“What’s happening—”

“Yes! Yes I want to help with the sushi!”

“See?” Noya grinned, gently pushing his underclassmen forward. “They’re young, eager to prove themselves—”

“Not with carrying tables…”

“—by obeying the rigid seniority system imposed on us by society—”

“Noya you’re so smart!”

“—that we ourselves – thanks, Shōyō – have honored since our early days and—”

“Yuyu!”

Noya perked up at the sound of the loud, strident voice. He patted the children on their tiny, tiny shoulders (ignoring Kageyema’s muttered, “Yuyu?”) and then dashed off across the school grounds towards the gate, where Mrs. Tanaka was standing with two huge bags of food dangling from her arms. He immediately grabbed the closest one, hoisting it over his shoulder with a happy, “Hello, Mrs. Tanaka!”

“Hey, Yū” she said with a little breath, offering him a happy smile. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine. Practice go well?”

“Immensely,” Noya said, waving to Mr. Tanaka’s lower half. He was dangling half-in, half-out of their tiny station wagon. Mr. Tanaka waved back through the window before returning to whatever conversation he was having with Takeda, who was bowing furiously and hovering around the car like an anxious worker bee.

“Immensely – well that’s good,” Mrs. Tanaka said, obviously fighting back a laugh. She stepped past the gates, heading towards the small courtyard on the opposite side of the gym. “We’re just gonna go ahead and set up same place as last year. Where’s my ungrateful son?”

“Corralling two of our underclassmen to help,” Noya quickly said to cover for Ryū. “Is that bag weighing you down? I could – oh, Asahi!”

He quickly flagged down the older boy, who was heading with Kiyoko towards the water fountains. Asahi jumped a little, and spent a few moments trying to vain to readjust the water bottles before they spilled everywhere. He resigned himself to letting them fall just so they’d stabilize and then quickly gathered them back up and jogged over, his cheeks slightly red.

“Y-Yes, Nishinoya – oh! Ah… M-Mrs. Tanaka, yes?” he stammered, loping awkwardly forward before pulling to a stop in front of the two.

“Yes – here, take this,” Mrs. Tanaka said immediately, holding out the bag and letting it fall carelessly from her fingers. Asahi audibly gasped and immediately abandoned the water bottles in favor of catching the bag before it hit the dirt. Mrs. Tanaka burst into snorts of laughter and clapped him on the shoulder.

“It’s just plastic ware! No need to panic,” she said in palpable delight. “But – ah, you must be Azumane! I don’t think we got a chance to talk last year.”

“N-no, ma’am,” Asahi said quickly, wincing just a bit as he tightened his grip on the bag. Noya frowned slightly, but then spotted the pair of chopsticks that had punctured the bag and were digging into Asahi’s skin. The older boy was probably too embarrassed to relinquish his hold.

“Asahi, you’ve got bamboo in your arm,” Noya pointed out, lightly tugging the bag away. He grinned at Mrs. Tanaka. “We can carry this stuff over, Mrs. Tanaka, don’t worry.”

“…He’s got a chopstick in his arm, Yuyu,” she said slowly. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Y-Yes – I really can’t even feel it…”

“Asahi, let go of the bag.”

“Wh—oh. Right.”

Mrs. Tanaka raised one groomed eyebrow before lightly ruffling Noya’s hair.

“You’re such a good older brother to these boys. We’ll start unloading and you can start hauling. Sound fair?”

“Fair and square,” Noya quipped, lightly shooing Asahi towards the courtyard.

“Bye – bye, Mrs. Tanaka,” Asahi called out weakly. “I – oh, you’re – you’re not leaving permanently, I shouldn’t have said goodbye— see you soon again –”

“She can’t hear you anymore, Asahi.”

Asahi’s teeth clicked lightly together as he shut his mouth. He pressed his lips together in a small line and cast a sidelong glance at Noya.

“…Older brother? Do I look younger than you?”

“I’m only nine months younger,” Noya pointed out, not-so-secretly delighted by the little flush on Asahi’s face. He gently bumped his hip against the older boy’s. “Does it bother you?”

Asahi slowly shook his head no, mumbling ‘ow’ when the chopstick dug into his arm again.

“You’re more older-brothery than I am,” he mumbled. “Which makes sense. You are an actual older brother.”

Noya gave Asahi a bizarre look.

“I’m not sure if this is confessing too much, but I did sort of eavesdrop on you being very brotherly to Shōyō. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Talking with – oh, you mean with Hinata,” Asahi said after a moment’s thought. He shrugged his broad shoulders, but there was a pleased smile on his face. “He’s looking for someone to admire. That game… I did sort of fit the bill in the moment, I suppose.”

“You fit the bill always, Asahi,” Noya said firmly. “When you jump you look like Superman. A really hairy kind of… hippy Superman – if Superman had a brother who worked at a small, liberal arts university–”

“Okay! Okay,” Asahi laughed, pressing a broad hand against his face. “You don’t need to paint quite such an elaborate word picture every time you want to tease me.”

“But I had so many more examples prepared.”

“Multiple examples –and yet you’re failing… what percentage of your classes?”

“I don’t know,” Noya said glumly. “Percentages are hard. But I have a feeling math is one of them.”

Asahi laughed again, the noise deep and vibrant. It startled several sparrows clinging to the branches of the lone tree at the edge of the courtyard. Asahi bit his lip to quiet himself as he watched them fly, his brown eyes tracking their path with an odd, almost primal precision. Noya set down his bags where the fluffy, pale dirt began to gnaw away at the patchy grass. He glanced over his shoulder at Asahi, raising an eyebrow in concern when he saw that the chopstick was digging into Asahi’s arm again. The older boy didn’t seem to notice.

“Asahi.”

Asahi’s eyes remained trained on the sky. His mouth was twisted into a knot, his cheeks hollow. 

Noya waited a moment longer, watching the ground between them start to crack. Asahi was getting farther and farther away. In danger of splintering off completely.

Noya reached out, tugging the bamboo away from Asahi’s arm.

“Asahi.”

Asahi’s fingers twitched. He blinked his eyes, once, and the ground mended. He smiled down at Noya. 

His nose wrinkled.

“Why does my arm hurt?”

“Because you’re a space cadet,” Noya said firmly, yanking the bag away from Asahi and letting it fall to the ground. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“The abnormal staring.”

“Abnormal – oh.” 

Asahi rubbed the back of his neck, a perfunctory smile on his face.

“Mm, sometimes… things strike me,” he said slowly, as though trying to piece the words together as they tumbled past his lips. “My brother used to call me what you did – space… space lieutenant –”

“It’s ‘cadet,’ Asahi.”

“–cadet, sorry, didn’t mean to give myself a promotion.”

“Promote away. Strike you how?”

Asahi immediately clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“It’s dumb.”

“I promise it’s not,” Noya said, waving over Yamaguchi who was looking a bit lost with two coolers dangling from each arm. “You like birds? You a bird watcher?”

“I – not… recreationally.”

“Is there another kind of non-recreational bird watchin’ I’m unfamiliar with?”

“I meant – I notice birds, I guess. They’re all right. Startlingly loud at five in the morning…”

“When are you up at five in the mornin’?”

“…Yesterday.”

“When else are you up at five in the mornin’?”

“When I can’t sleep – oh no, Yamaguchi’s going to fall…”

Asahi made an anxious noise and started forward, but the first year caught himself at the last second and managed to keep from spilling everything.

Noya made sure Freckles was moving in a forward rather than downward vector before he tugged on Asahi’s sleeve.

“You’re sad?” he guessed. “If you’re sad you should tell me.”

“I’m not sad,” Asahi promised, detaching Noya’s fingers from his sleeve. “I’m fine – Daichi’s looking at us weirdly. Let’s go help.”

Noya made a frustrated noise, but obligingly pulled away. 

“I changed my mind. You’re the least space-cadety person I know,” he grumbled. “Are you ever not hyper-trained on how everyone around you’s regardin’ you? But yeah, you’re right. Let’s go help. You can be on table duty.” He headed towards the rest of the team, slowly making their way towards them laden with drinks and food.

Asahi jogged after him, his footsteps oddly light.

“Noya, those tables are fifty pounds each.”

Noya scoffed and tilted his head back, grinning up at Asahi.

“C’mon, Asahi. Don’t you want to show off?”

“Show off?” Asahi glanced around, and when he spoke again his voice was a bit sly, “Is there something in particular you’d like to see me do? ...Yuyu?”

Noya froze, trying to cope with the embarrassing explosion of heat in his stomach before he laughed.

“The first non-Tanaka to dare to use that! You have way more balls than you give yourself credit for.”

“I’m sorry,” Asahi said. For once he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I overheard, and--... It’s. S-Something else. It suits you.”

“Suits me,” Noya repeated, fighting back a grin.

“You could host a children’s programming show.”

“Sadly not my ideal career—”

“But you would be good at it,” Asahi said gently, a small smile on his face. He immediately winced when Daichi’s voice echoed across the courtyard, “Stop shirking your giant duties, giant!”

“…I’m not even the tallest on the team anymore,” Asahi mumbled, but he gave Noya one last smile before jogging forward to help Daichi with the table. Noya took a moment to calm down, hoping to god that Asahi wasn’t going to abuse the nickname too much. He wasn’t sure his heart could take it.

After helping Yamaguchi not impale himself on a table leg, Noya found himself dragged around by Shōyō who was in an excited frenzy about the prospect of fancy food. The rest of the team slowly put everything together, but the moment Mrs. Tanaka bellowed, “Dig in!” the tables became a massive, horrifying free-for-all. Noya ended up wedged in between a very cranky Tsukishima and a still-excitable Shōyō, who was making game attempts to speak with entire ecosystems of fish shoved into his mouth.

“And so Mom said we’re only allowed to eat the sushi that’s from the grocery store because we have ‘unrefined palates,’” he said animatedly. For the third time.

Noya heard Tsukishima’s chopsticks creak as the boy tightened his grip on them, but he stayed miraculously quiet. Noya laughed because Shōyō was hilarious and happy and he liked that, even if the repetition was starting to get a bit old. Suzu had a bad habit of repeating the same thing over and over again as well. Usually a bit of sports trivia she’d picked up from a documentary. Kid was like, mad-scientist level smart at retaining information. Same with Taka.

Noya set his chopsticks down and rested his elbows on the table, content to listen to the muttered bitching to his right and the excited jabbering to his left. It was weirdly mellowing him out. When he glanced around at the other tables, though, he caught Mr. Tanaka staring at him oddly for just a moment before he went back to refilling plates. Noya frowned, but before he could get up to go ask what was wrong, a dark shadow fell over him. A piece of mackerel appeared in front of his face, pinched delicately between two, large fingers.

“I’m full but I’m terrified to waste any food I’ve touched,” Asahi said nervously, “Nishinoya – please, please eat this for me, Mr. Tanaka’s already yelled at me twice.”

“He’s not yelling, he’s elevating his voice to make a point,” Noya said, but he obligingly leaned forward and tugged the piece of sushi out of Asahi’s grip with his teeth. He propped his chin in his hands, chewing absently and silently enjoying Kageyama’s awkward staring and the odd, uneven breathing pattern from Asahi. Noya could mentally match Asahi’s expression to the rhythm; he’d seen the two appear together so many times.

“Ni… Nishinoya—”

“Hands were occupied,” he said, just to appease Asahi before he fell headlong into a panic attack. He tilted his head back, pleased to see he’d guessed right. Asahi’s cheeks were flushed and his hands were fluttering around like a pinioned sparrow but there was a slight tilt to his lips that meant he was happy.

What a loser.

“Oi, Yuyu! C’mere a sec!”

Tsukishima snickered next to him, but quickly hid the noise behind a cup. Noya felt his cheeks color slightly and he quickly extracted himself from the table before any of his underclassmen could comment. He patted Asahi’s arm as he passed – the older boy was still rooted to the spot like a deactivated golem. He’d stir again, eventually.

Noya jogged over to Mr. Tanaka’s side, giving the man a little salute.

“You called?”

“Yeah – here, help me with these coolers,” the man said, gesturing to the cool boxes stacked on the ground. Noya nodded and picked up as many as he could carry. He followed Mr. Tanaka back to the gate where the car was parked outside on the road. Illegally, of course. Small town, Golden Week. No one cared.

“Oof – just set ‘em down on the ground there, kiddo.”

“Yes, sir.”

Noya carefully lowered the boxes, shaking out his arms. Carrying heavy loads on top of a hundred pushups didn’t really feel all that great. He began silently loading the coolers into the Tanaka’s car, just like he’d done tens of times during the last year when he’d been roped into helping them with their catering events.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him pause and crane his head back. Mr. Tanaka was staring down at him, his thick eyebrows furrowed underneath the white handkerchief wrapped around his head.

“You okay, kid?”

His voice was more gravely than usual. As though it were dragging a very reluctant him down a rocky conversational path.

Noya shoved the last table into the car and turned to give Mr. Tanaka a cheerful (if slightly confused) smile.

“Never better,” he said honestly. “Have I done something to make you worry?”

“Huh? Oh – nah, kid, ‘s nothin’ like that,” Mr. Tanaka said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “The missus – she just made a comment that you and Ryūnosuke weren’t sittin’ together. He’s been kinda temperamental lately so I was just worried he might’ve said somethin’ t’ piss you off.”

“Temperamental?”

“Yeah – shuttin’ himself up in his room, bein’ surly with the customers… we had t’ send him back t’ do kitchen duty. Saeko was pissed – she hates workin’ front of house when it’s slow. Gets too bored.”

“Oh.”

Thoughts of their fight quickly rose to the surface of Noya’s mind but he dusted them away without much effort. That had been yesterday. Unrelated, most likely. And resolved as of five minutes later. The benefit of having a friend that was in a lot of ways your mind twin. But a not-creepy version. Just convenient.

“We’re good, Mr. Tanaka,” Noya reassured him. “Nothing’s wrong from our end of things, anyway.”

Mr. Tanaka let out a little breath and flashed him a toothy grin.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. Thicker’n thieves, the two’ve ya.” He scratched at the scarf covering his hair, his lips puckered into a frown as he walked back towards the school yard, Noya following a step behind. “Wonder what it is, then. Maybe that ‘Kiyoko’ girl. He talks about her a lot. That was her, right? Glasses? Mole?”

“Yes – Ryū’s talked about Kiyoko with you?” Noya said in surprise.

“’Course. Kid’s got it bad – from the sound of it you do too.” Mr. Tanaka snorted. “Thought that might’ve been the cause’ve it. A love triangle or somethin’ stupid.”

“God no,” Noya said before he could catch himself. When Mr. Tanaka snorted with laughter Noya flushed and hastened to add, “She’s out of our league! We both know it – but she’s so perfect – it’s like bein’ in the presence of a goddess.”

“Hoo boy. T’ be that young an’ unjaded. Must be nice,” Mr. Tanaka chuckled. “I used t’ worship a girl like that.”

“Really? What happened?”

“She hit me with her schoolbag. Said I was bein’ creepy an’ t’ cut it out, which I did,” Mr. Tanaka said, staring up at the clock tower as they approached the yard. “But I really am a lucky bastard. She married me ten years later.” He clapped Noya on the shoulder again, offering him an encouraging nod. 

“People change for others, Yuyu. They say they won’t, say it’s bad. But I think that’s just if you’re talkin’ ‘bout tryin’ to change someone else into what you want them to be. Nothin’ wrong with wantin’ to change yourself. Get closer to how someone else sees you. Those’re the best kinda relationships, after all. Where you each constantly strive to better yourself. Tryin’ to get closer to the other. Both thinkin’ you’re reachin’ for some deity. An’ who knows. Maybe your goddess’ll hit you someday, tell you to cut it out. Put that fire in you to want to grow an’ change. Be better. More whole a person.”

Mr. Tanaka laughed and ruffled Noya’s hair.

“’Course, I’ll be rootin’ for my Ryūnosuke, but just between you an’ me, I think you’re a better match for someone as refined lookin’ as she is.”

Noya ducked his head, not sure how to process the sudden flood of embarrassment. He didn’t keep anything from the Tanakas. Nothing they asked directly about, anyway. He didn’t keep anything from anyone but suddenly all he could think of was the fact that no one had ever been more wrong about him in his entire life. He wasn’t a match for Kiyoko. Not just because she was untouchable and lovely and perfect. She was. She would always be the shining, resplendent star in their sweaty gym. But he wasn’t a match because he didn’t even want to try reaching for her anymore. He was a match with another guy, another sweaty guy like himself, as un-goddess a being as they came. And he wanted to tell Mr. Tanaka just to have an adult hear it and be horrified or supportive or something. Anything that would let him know how the world outside the people closest to him would react. How an adult would react. Take it seriously or brush it off as some high school thing.

But all he could do was nod, tacitly agree. Almost as bad as a lie.

“You’re a shy kid, Yuyu, underneath that wild hair,” Mr. Tanaka said suddenly, adjusting his headband. “I know talkin’ t’ girls is hard, but don’t worry. It’ll work out. You’ll get the girl an’ your life’ll shift a few degrees, or you won’t an’ it’ll shift different. Either way it’ll keep goin’ forward. Maybe you’ll find a new goddess down the road, eh?”

Noya nodded and gave Mr. Tanaka a sunny grin, defaulting to obstinate cheer.

“Thanks, Mr. Tanaka,” he said warmly, because he meant it. Ryū’s parents fed him and cared about him. Their house had been his within the first month of his and Ryū’s friendship.

Mr. Tanaka just ruffled his hair again and told him to go help Ryū with tear down.

It felt wrong to nod and smile. To thank Mr. Tanaka again for having his back and to jog over to his teammates. He searched the group quickly, needing an anchor. Some sort of reassurance that he wasn’t a bad person for keeping a secret. Almost telling a lie – he hated lies and this was a big one.

Asahi wasn’t there. Neither was Suga, they were probably off doing. Something.

And oh shit Asahi was his anchor now, apparently. That wasn’t good; the tether between them was still in its tiny rope infancy. More akin dental floss than anything.

Noya ran his fingers through his hair in distress, barely hearing Shōyō when the younger boy chirped next to him, asking if he needed help. He shook his head and made a beeline for Ryū, working next to him in silence. His friend took a moment to notice his presence, but when he did he lightly bumped his shoulder against his and asked quietly, “Dad didn’t bug you too much, did he?”

Noya shook his head, kicking the leg of the table back into position before helping Ryū move it towards the car.

“You talk to your parents about Kiyoko?” he asked instead. Ryū could tell he was off-kilter, didn’t need to go into it.

“Wh – oh fuck, what did Dad say?!”

“Just that you mention her a lot. Nothin’ bad.” 

Ryū let out a little groan, the table swaying as his steps took on a shuffling gait.

“Ah, hell. Knew I shouldn’tve said anythin’ to Saeko. Fuckin’ blabbermouth. …Or to Mom. Or Dad. Or Matsuoka – did you know that line cooks are the worst fuckin’ gossips in the world?”

“Sorta, yeah. They’ve told me stuff about you before.”

“…About, uh… what. Exactly.”

“Jammers.”

“Jam—the ratty boxer shorts I used to use as a security blanket?! They told you?!”

“Yeah – I’ve got some extra ones lyin’ around I’m sure if you need a Jammers 2.0,” Noya said lightly, laughing when the table rocked a bit as Ryū groaned dramatically. 

“Fuck – fuck you can’t tell any—”

“Never.”

“—one okay good.” 

Ryū fell silent for a moment before muttering, “And there will never be another Jammers. I’m not buryin’ another friend.”

“You buried them?”

“Cremated, actually. Then scattered in the koi pond.”

There came a pause.

“…Several fish died immediately after. I’m not sayin’ it was because of Jammers—”

“Oh god –it’s like those old stories about politicians who suffered unjust deaths and came back as plagues on the capital. The soul of Jammers is goin’ to kill every first born.”

“—but yeah it’s most definitely a curse, don’t go near that pond unsupervised it’ll probably curse you since it knows you’re my special treasure of a person.”

Noya pressed a hand against his face to stifle his laughter. His guilt dripped down like mercury to pool at the bottom of his skull, coating the inside in a thin film. It’d press in on his brain later.

Hopefully much later.

They finished loading the car, exchanging horrible what-if tales of revenge, and by the time the team was slogging their way up the mountain towards the lodge, Noya’s strange mood had left him. They pillow-dueled the first years for the right to bathe first while the third years talked to Ukai. Hinata was the only real participant – Yamaguchi made a gallant effort but when Tsukishima threw in the literal towel five seconds into the match, the other boy quickly surrendered. Kageyama was too ornery to be of much use. 

Showered and still flush with victory, Noya flopped down atop his futon, pressing his face into the pillow. Thank god both Kinoshita and Chikara were so particular about tearing down and setting up the sleeping stuff. Meant that almost no one else had to bother with it.

He felt Ryū settle down next to him. His friend’s long fingers prodded at his spine. Slowly walking up to pinch the back of his neck.

“You can’t possibly be sleepin’ yet.”

Noya hummed happily, kicking his legs a bit.

“It’s bedtime.”

“It’s nine thirty.”

“Why d’you insist on repeatin’ me?”

“God – you’re the most old-person on this team,” Ryū’ grumbled, fishing around in his bag and tugging out his DS. “People would guess Suga probably ‘cause of—”

“’Cause of the hair and the mole,” Noya mumbled sleepily.

“—the hair and – yeah. We’ve talked about this before haven’t we.”

Noya nodded, his forehead rubbing against the slightly-scratchy fabric of the bean-filled pillow. He shoved his hands underneath to give some more support, frowning when his fingers encountered something that was neither cloth. Nor beans.

He sat up and pulled the phone out, staring at it blankly. White. Kind of large. Screen intact. Heavy-duty case on it. Not very stylish. 

He held it out towards Ryū.

“Found a phone.”

Ryū paused his game to look up. He raised an eyebrow.

“Whose is that? Chikara’s? I know he’s obsessive about it not breakin’.”

“Nah, his is bulkier. I’ve stolen it enough to know,” Noya said, flicking on the screen. The lock screen was set to a password. The background was a picture of a lake. Pretty, but boring. It looked like a stock image. 

Noya wrinkled his nose.

“Whosever it is, they’re both paranoid and have kind of elderly taste in pictures.”

“Sure it’s not yours?”

Noya kicked Ryū in the side, too busy fiddling with the phone to bother looking up or aiming properly. 

“What kind of loser puts a password on their phone and not just a pin or pattern?” he muttered, lying on his back and typing in random words.

“Someone who’s private – Noya, you can’t hack it.”

“Watch me.”

“It’s a password, it could be literally anythin’.”

“I’m in.”

“You fuckin’ liar.”

Noya tried for a few more minutes before he gave up. If the password wasn’t ‘garigari’ he didn’t know what it could be. He turned the phone over, inspecting the case again. It was heavy-duty, but there was a little pocket type thing on the back. It had a piece of paper shoved in. The corner was sticking out.

Noya sat up a bit to glance around the room. Narita and Kinoshita were at the far end, talking quietly. First years in the baths. Third years not there.

He hunched over a bit and fished the note out, curious. He unfolded it and almost dropped the phone. The characters of his last name were written at the top.

“What’s up?” Ryū asked, his eyes still on his game. “I can tell you found somethin’, your breathin’ got all erratic. Did you actually guess the password?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” Noya replied immediately, lying back down on his side.

“You’ll never get a job in the international spy ring now. Bummer.”

“Yeah,” Noya mumbled, focused on the note. He slowly opened it, the slightly cramped handwriting making it hard to read. And who the hell used that many kanji. Besides newspaper reporters.

Nishinoya,  
At least I’m hoping it’s you. I think this is your futon. If it’s not then please don’t let Tanaka read this, he’ll probably get suspi  
He already knows. Right. Well, there goes about. 99% of my reasoning behind this stupid plan.  
I don’t know why I’m attempting to be covert when I could have just said this in person. It probably would have been a lot less awkward. And garnered less suspicion. It’s not like we can’t hang out one-on-one outside of practice time. Teammates do that all the time. I mean we didn’t before, that wasn’t something we did. So maybe it would be weird. But it probably would have been less weird than me leaving my phone and hoping you’d be the one to find it and not Kinoshita. Who, by the way, actually chided me for trying to take two pillows. It was alarming. His eyebrows are very small and when he gets angry they seem to disappear into his face. Tell him I’m sorry again for my selfish actions. Maybe he’ll believe it if I’m not stammering and throwing pillows away from me to alleviate my guilt. Our team is. Strange.  
Anyway, I found that room you mentioned this morning, with the bridge and the little river in it. We could meet there after showers. To talk about strategy. Remember I had that thing I wanted to ask you. About strategy. It’d be great to get it off my chest. I have so many strategic thoughts in my head I’ve been wanting to tell you. It’s all I could think about during practice which is why I sucked extra hard today. Too much strategy running around my head.  
Also my phone password used to be my birthday until Suga pointed out that 0101 is probably the second thing anyone would type if they were guessing, so I changed it to the name of that crepe place we went to. Considering the name is something only an infant with alphabet blocks would be capable of randomly generating, I figured it would be safe.  
Please don’t show Tanaka my pictures. But you may show him my high score on Tekken mobile. I could stand to garner a few points with him, I feel badly for always monopolizing your time.  
See you in a bit (hopefully). I’m leaving my phone with you as a self-imposed ransom so I don’t chicken out.  
Azumane Asahi

Noya could feel his cheeks starting to ache from grinning as he reread the note.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, fighting back a laugh. “Oh my god he signed his entire name—”

“Who did what now?”

Noya quickly shoved the note back into the phone pocket as Ryū propped his chin on his shoulder.

“Nothin’,” he said quickly. “The phone’s Asahi’s. He left me a note and was bein’ a huge dork about it.”

“Being a huge dork is his raison d'être,” Ryū deadpanned. “Figures the phone’s his but –”

Noya typed in the password as Ryū continued to talk, his cheeks coloring when he realized he recognized the phone’s wallpaper. It was the photo he’d taken of the alpaca Asahi had won. He’d sent it the minute he decided he was going to keep the thing.

“—kind of a girly background. What’s with the stuffed animal? And how d’you know his password?”

“Asahi’s good at crane games,” Noya said absently, sitting up and pressing a hand against Ryū’s face. “And ‘cause he told me. Look that way, Asahi doesn’t want you seein’ his pictures.”

“What if they’re dick pics. Your innocent, child eyes aren’t ready for that,” Ryū insisted, but held obediently still with Noya’s hand still plastered to his skin.

“Asahi’s not brave enough to save pictures of his face, let alone his… that,” Noya mumbled, flipping through the phone and making a note of the aps Asahi kept on his screen. All school and practicality. Translator. Dictionary. A bubble level? Who the hell used that. Conversion charts. Calendar, memo pad (Noya was tempted to read but resisted the urge), e-books (all public domain classics), and then—

“Holy shit – Ryū, he’s got the special edition of Mortal Combat Mobile on here!” Noya said excitedly, releasing Ryū from his eyeball prison so he could see.

“No fuckin’ way,” Ryū breathed, his fingers twitching as he reached for the screen. “That’s not out to the public yet – wait. How – d’you think he faints every time he plays it? What with the spines bein’ ripped outta people?”

“I dunno, Asahi gets weirdly in the zone when he plays fightin’ games,” Noya murmured, tapping the icon. The intro played, and he and Ryū fell into a hushed, reverent silence. The high scores popped up and Noya let out a burst of laughter.

“AZA – that’s his handle,” he said, pointing to the screen. “Look at this idiot – top two percent in the world!”

“No – oh my god,” Ryū said weakly. “But – okay it’s a demo, it’s not…”

“It’s impressive,” Noya said firmly, hitting the ‘free play’ mode and handing the phone to Ryū. Ryū let out a nervous squawk and nearly dropped the thing before cradling it carefully in his palms.

“N-Noya,” he stammered, hesitantly clicking his character. “Noya, I’m not worthy – are you sure this is okay?”

“All Asahi said was to not let you see his pictures. This isn’t pictures,” Noya said, propping his chin on Ryū’s shoulder so he could watch. “And the third years aren’t done with their bath yet so we’ve got time.”

“Time until what?” Ryū said, his eyes scanning the controls quickly before the first fight began.

“Asahi wants me to meet him.”

Ryū’s thumbs stuttered over the screen for a moment before he started tapping away again.

“…Like. A hook-up?” 

“…Maybe? I dunno what that entails.”

“Usually fuckin’—”

“Don’t be gross, dude.”

“—but in Asahi’s case it’s probably more, like. Recitin’ stanzas of poetry and shit. Or complainin’ about the perils of pubescent beard growth.”

“His beard is tiny,” Noya agreed, hissing in sympathy when Ryū’s character got thrown across the screen. “But it’s well-kept. Like his hair. Which is soft. It’s probably what a girl’s hair would feel like. They use all that conditioner and fancy stuff—my dad’s good at sellin’ extra products like that.”

“Yeah, well… guess you won’t be able to test that comparison any time soon unless you go into your dad’s line of work,” Ryū muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Noya opened his mouth to protest, contradict, but then slowly closed it when he realized what that would mean. To contradict would mean that he’d at some point down the line be touching a girl’s hair like he’d touched Asahi’s. And he wouldn’t do that if Asahi’s hair were still available to be touched.

Noya settled a bit more firmly against his friend’s back.

“We’ll have to verbally compare experiences.”

“Or you could shave Asahi’s head. Make a wig. Wear it on your hand like it’s a sock puppet.”

“I’m not shavin’ his hea—I’m only gonna shave his head if he asks.”

“True, not all of us can pull off a buzz cut.”

“Very few of us. I hear Ukai used to wear his hair like that.”

“Wh—oh my god, his eyebrows are so intense, though. He probably looked like someone stuck a couple of caterpillars onto a pasty bowling ball.”

“It is exactly like that. Steal Sis’ yearbook and I’ll show you. Takeda let me see the picture he found in the faculty office but when I laughed he freaked and said he wouldn’t show anyone else.”

“Cruel of him. What a cruel advisor we have.”

The door to the room slid open and Hinata and Kageyama tumbled inside, arguing loudly about who had contributed more towards emptying the bath.

“—practically canonballed into a tub the size of a sofa! What the hell did you think would happen?!”

“That there would be a tidal wave and it would be awesome and it was!”

“It’s your fault Daichi yelled at us – now we have to go last tomorrow!”

“Tsukishima’s the one who kicked the plug out!”

“Don’t blame Tsukki! If you two hadn’t been arguing and getting water everywhere—”

“Yamaguchi, I don’t need you to try and explain my actions to two protozoa. Give them a few millennia to evolve and let them figure it out themselves.”

“Ah – yeah, sorry—”

“You’re an asshole, Tsukishima.”

“What’s a proto zoom?”

Ryū let out a triumphant howl as he managed to defeat the first opponent. Hinata immediately came rushing over, crowding in next to Ryū.

“What’s that ? What – oh my god why’s – why’s his head backwards?!”

“Because I won,” Ryū said smugly, grinning at the first year. “Look – man, the realism. That artery’s goin’ nuts…”

“Are the third years in the baths now?” Noya asked Hinata, whose face was a bit pale. The first year nodded, mumbling, “The, um… the bath’s empty so they won’t take long, probably.”

“Hinata confused the tiny soaking bath with an Olympic swimming pool,” Kageyama groused, sitting down on his futon and swiping his fingers through his damp hair. “He soaked my towel.”

“Go call the towel police, you big complainer.”

“There’s no such thing as the towel police, dumbass.”

“That’s the joke, bigger dumbass!”

“Children, children. Compassion,” Ryū gently chided, patting Hinata on the head before he turned to raise an eyebrow at Noya. “You gonna return this?”

“’Course,” Noya said, taking the phone and standing. “Look after our brood.”

Ryū gave him a little salute, pulling out his DS again and settling down with Hinata chattering happily to him. Noya headed over the door, giving Kinoshita and Narita a little salute before sliding the fusuma shut behind him. The hallway was only half lit; most of the cam lights were dimmed. He paused by the bath. Silence.

He could feel himself smiling as he walked down the hall. He wanted to run. He wanted to run so badly because now that he was alone, no distractions, his mind was wandering back to twenty four hours ago. The weight against his chest. Pressure. Fingers in his hair, the smell of Asahi’s shampoo, the scratch of his beard, deep voice rattling the bones in Noya’s body—

Too far.

Noya quickly fished Asahi’s phone out of his pocket again and flicked it on, needing a distraction as he walked. Showing up with a semi would probably vault the meeting into territory neither of them was overly familiar with. Or ready for.

He typed in the password and clicked on the gallery, thumbing through Asahi’s pictures.

Nature. Almost all of them. There was that lake that was his lock screen. Some woods. Flowers. Really close up shots of flowers.

People. Dense walls of people, their faces indistinguishable.

Noya frowned, his footsteps slowing as he tried to recognize the place.

The intersection where they’d met the other week. 

He carefully picked his way down the stairs, flicking through the rest of the pictures. 

So many portraits. Taken covertly, from the looks of them. Of people smiling, talking. Eating ice cream. Pointing at something in the distance. High school boys, old couples, exhausted looking shop clerks, elementary school kids with bright backpacks. Interspersed with pictures of nature, shots of the shopping arcade, nikuman, fancy restaurant food, parfaits, ramen, a soda ice—

Noya’s steps faulted a bit as he approached the room. He could hear the river.

He quickly pushed the button to kill the screen and shoved the phone in his pocket. He stepped through the doorway, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer lightning. The painted folding screens had lamps behind them, casting the little room into soft shadows that made it seem much larger. As though it continued on and on out into the garden, fighting back the encroaching roots of the twisted plums.

Asahi was sitting cross-legged on the small bridge that spanned the stream, next to the wall where the water flowed in from outside. A black hoodie was nearly sliding off his shoulders, revealing a thin, white T-shirt underneath. Knee-length shorts bunched up around his thighs. His elbows jutted out with an awkward elegance that made Noya think of old warriors about to offer themselves up to their lords. There was an empty cushion next to him, and Noya sat down, holding Asahi’s phone out.

“You’re brave.”

Asahi nearly dropped his phone into the water, cursing quietly as he fumbled to rescue it.

“Hello – sorry, sweaty palms. And no I’m not,” he mumbled, placing the device face-down atop his thigh. “I just know you’re not a jerk. And that you’re loyal to a fault. It’s not brave to take advantage of those two things.”

“You’re brave,” Noya insisted, elbowing Asahi’s side. “And you really like to pick fights about objective facts. Why d’you do that?”

“Glutton for punishment, I guess,” Asahi said, blinking as a few strands of hair fell into his eyes. He had it pulled half back, the little bun messy and ready to capsize at any moment.

Noya really wanted to touch it.

He managed to refrain.

Instead he leaned forward and let his fingers trail in the water. Asahi remained still before he quietly ventured, “…So did you look?”

Noya nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the stream so he wouldn’t be tempted to track Asahi’s every move like a compulsive watchdog. “If I hadn’t seen it in person I’d be a hundred percent convinced that some video-game obsessed angel stole your phone and put those records in there.”

“Records – oh, the game…”

Asahi shrugged his broad shoulders but when he spoke again his voice was lighter. Hydrogen filled.

“I have a long commute to school. It’s really not a big deal. I used to do flashcards and things like that, but… I needed a break, I guess.”

“Flashcards?!”

“…I think your level of surprise could be brought down a few notches and still adequately convey the emotion.”

“Ugh…” Noya dragged a hand down his face. “You’re making me feel crazy undisciplined here, Asahi…”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“Never. But – yeah, you’re amazing. Ryū couldn’t even come close to touching your lowest record.”

“Oh no – Tanaka looked—”

“Just at the game.”

“Oh thank god.”

Asahi flipped his phone over and turned it on, biting his lip as he slowly paged through the screens.

“Did you look at anything else?”

“Yeah –why the hell do you have so many creepy pictures of people on your phone, Asahi.”

“Creepy –”

Asahi visibly deflated, his large thumbs neurotically flipping back and forth between two screens. He finally let out a quiet breath and mumbled, “I guess you’re right. I – I don’t know. I like taking pictures, but… it’s always more interesting when there’s another person in them. You know how… how dogs… some dogs will recognize another dog on the TV screen and get really excited? I suppose I’m… kind of like that. Seeing people going about their lives makes me happy. And sometimes I sort of space out and start snapping pictures to keep myself focused…”

“You do space out a lot,” Noya confirmed, scooting just a bit closer to Asahi so he could watch the screen jitter back and forth. “Like today in the courtyard. With the bird. And the chopstick.”

“…Yeah. I do.”

Asahi fell silent until just the stream’s noise was left. The quiet burbling, the gentle bite of spring air through the holes in the wall. They made the hair on Noya’s arms stand up. He scooted even closer to Asahi, tugging at the little cardboard wall between them. He wasn’t sure if he could broach it. Maybe at least poke a few holes, test its cardboardy fortitude. Or if he should wait for Asahi to say something, or—

“Don’t – please don’t tell the other guys how… weird I am,” Asahi said suddenly.

“I’m pretty sure they already know,” Noya said, trying to gauge just how panicked Asahi truly was. Meltdown levels or if it was one of his little impassioned bursts that would quickly pass. 

“Yeah – yeah. Thank god they’re tolerant… or just have selective hearing.” Asahi laughed quietly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

The noise went straight to Noya’s gut.

Endearing, impassioned burst, then. Fuck that cardboard wall wasn’t going to be enough in just a few minutes.

“You’re really brave, Asahi,” Noya said again, turning to face the other boy properly. He put his hand on his thigh because that’s where hands should go when you were sitting on a miniature bridge with someone you’d made out with pretty intensely the night before. “You’re weird as hell but you know as well as I do that it takes bravery to be weird.”

“Or parents that are first cousins,” Asahi muttered. His cheeks grew red as he stared at Noya’s hand, eyeing it like it was a salmon that had suddenly apparated onto his leg. His eyes suddenly widened and he said hastily, “Mine are not. Just for the record. Well there’s – there’s some speculation on my mother’s side – there’s a branch from the untouchables caste so they don’t have a registry before the early twentieth century…”

Noya stared at Asahi, warmth blossoming in his chest. 

Asahi was so strange. So unbelievably alien to him still with all his neurosis and tangents and weird, Asahi-only express lanes to the inner workings of his logic center.

Fuck he was amazing.

Noya shifted closer, butting his shoulder against Asahi’s and letting it stay there. He could feel the muscles of Asahi’s thigh tensing under his fingertips.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked kindly.

Asahi tried to shrug but then obviously thought better of it when he realized that his shoulder was supporting ninety percent of Noya’s bodyweight. 

“Nothing. Just ignore me—”

“Asahi.”

“What?”

“What the hell were you talking about.”

“…I’m not inbred. We think.”

Noya pressed his face against Asahi’s shoulder, muffling his laughter. The bridge creaked as Asahi shifted his weight, but Noya could feel his chest move with the deep, nearly-silent seizes of laughter that meant Asahi was happy to be acting like an idiot.

“That’s all I meant, Nishinoya, you don’t need to suffocate.”

“Okay.”

“That’s all! That’s really all.”

“Okay.”

“…Can you just verbally confirm for me—”

“Your genetic stock is hardy and diverse, Asahi.”

“—thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Your hand is – uh…”

Noya lifted his head, his cheeks turning pink when he realized just what his fingertips were brushing against.

“Oh – shi—shoot, sorry,” he muttered, moving back to safer territory. Still inner thigh. Less. Ball-adjacent.

“It’s fine,” Asahi said quietly, and Noya glanced up in time to see a flash of dark in the older boy’s warm, brown eyes before it dissipated. 

Noya licked his lips reflexively, every muscle in his body tense. Holding pattern. Waiting for the sparks in his brain to send their orders.

His fingers moved rebelliously, curling against the soft fabric of Asahi’s shorts. Thumb pressed a bit harder, feeling the skin underneath the cotton. 

Asahi’s breath caught in his throat, and a moment later a large hand covered Noya’s. Not stilling his movements. Confirming them.

“It’s fine,” Asahi repeated again. Noya could feel his heart beating wildly against his ribcage. The door was right over there. Screens with their pretty paintings of cranes and mountains weren’t quite as strategic as they’d need them to be.

“You said that already, Asahi,” Noya pointed out, his body moving instinctively. Ignoring the ill-placed screens, the open door to the hallway. Knees scraping. Muscles tensing, letting Asahi’s leg slide between his own as he kneeled, turned to face the older boy. He braced himself with one hand on Asahi’s shoulder, excitement making it hard to swallow, hard to breathe like a normal person would. He could feel Asahi’s knee pressing up against his tailbone, supporting his weight as the other boy moved beneath him.

“I know – I’m… kind of amazed I’m capable of speech at all at this point, so I’ll take what… what I can get N-Nishinoya what are you doing?” Asahi stammered, even as his hand rested on Noya’s hip, steadying him.

Noya let out a soft, involuntary gasp, the solid weight of Asahi’s palm breaking up the pulsing, deafening drums that had been beating blood into his veins. He shuddered and pressed his forehead against Asahi’s to ground himself.

“Unless last night was some weird… fluke thing, you know what I’m doing. I hope,” he managed to say, his lips feeling weird; tingly like he’d just had a cavity drilled.

“Not a fluke,” Asahi said immediately, his hand tightening on Noya’s hip. “Never a fluke, I wouldn’t… fluke with you. Not to that. Extent, with the – the almost tumbling to our deaths from an unsteady balcony we didn’t properly inspect before you were – we… we were…” 

Asahi trailed off and Noya lifted his head, meeting the other boy’s slightly bashful gaze. He laughed and butted his forehead against Asahi’s again, letting his lips graze the corner of his mouth just to feel Asahi shudder. Just because he could.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, Asahi. That okay?”

Noya felt a surge of triumph when Asahi groaned – quiet and barely perceptible but it was there. His thumb brushed over Noya’s hipbone, timidly bold in its pressure.

“Y—yeah, yeah, that’s – thank you for asking—” Asahi breathed, his nose pressing against the harsh lines of Noya’s jaw. “N-Nishinoya you’re— you’re so a-attractive… I’m kind of… paralyzed, here…”

Noya felt his cheeks color at the honest admission, but Asahi’s warm breath on his skin was making whatever few sparks of life left in his brain short circuit. He cupped his hands against Asahi’s cheeks, forcing him to lift his head so he could press a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“Paralyzed’s not good,” he murmured, “This helping?”

“Yeah…”

Asahi suddenly leaned forward a bit, his lips brushing against Noya’s chin, his cheek. The little divot under his full, bottom lip. 

When he pulled away Noya caught sight of a grin before Asahi said seriously, “I seem to be cured. You’re a miracle wor—wh—!”

Noya had burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around Asahi’s neck and pulling him forward to kiss him properly. Noya could feel the thinness of Asahi’s lips against his as he smiled, large fingers splaying over the small of his back. Warmth, softness, the rustling of clothes drowning out the demure babbling of the stream. The line connecting their bodies slowly melting, twisting plastic in a summer-baked car. Asahi’s thick fingers in his damp hair, thumb tracing his sideburns and down his jaw as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Elated thoughts, pings of emotion that had no words to contain or convey them flashing like hyperactive fireflies in Noya’s mind. 

He had to breathe.

With a disappointed gasp Noya broke the kiss, a strand of saliva still connecting his lips to Asahi’s. He licked it away, barely having the time to register the action as gross before he vaulted towards the one light that was still glowing in his brain.

“Go out with me, Asahi.”

Asahi’s lips were parted, opening and closing by millimeters with the rising and falling of his broad chest. He blinked, and Noya fought back the urge to kiss his bemused, handsome face again.

“…Sorry?”

Noya made a noise and lightly pushed against Asahi’s shoulder.

“Apology or request for repeat?”

“The latter.”

“Huh?”

“Repeat, please.”

“Oh.”

Noya cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed now that the moment had been drawn into too-clear perspective.

“…Will you go out with me? I – we didn’t… get a chance to talk about it, really, and I don’t like assuming things but—”

“I’d really like that.”

Noya stared at Asahi, surprised at the straightforward answer. The other boy’s eyes were averted. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear like he did when he was nervous. 

“…You would – you’d like that,” Noya repeated, the realness of his proposal suddenly hitting him. “That’s yes?”

“A very hopeful, tentatively enthusiastic,” Asahi said, his hands falling to rest in Noya’s lap. Knees. Area. Thankfully. “I’d do my normal flailing but you’d end up in the stream. And that just seems like a really bad way to start this whole thing.”

“Please don’t dump me in the stream, Asahi,” Noya said, his lungs not working right, they were moving too fast. He pressed a hand against his face, suddenly overwhelmed.

“Oh my god,” he said weakly. “I’m dating Karasuno’s ace.”

“I—I feel. Weird when you call me that when you’re, um… s-straddling my lap—”

“I’m dating Karasuno’s ace—do you know how fucking lucky I am?!”

“Shh – N-Nishinoya, the proprietors are probably still awake—”

“I have a boyfriend!”

“Oh my god.”

“The second tallest guy on the team—”

“That scratching noise is undoubtedly the sound wildlife in the garden fleeing— or charging –”

“—who can actually reach a decent vertical jump if he’s not slacking!”

“Are you seriously critiquing my physical fitness at this juncture—”

“Asahi!”

“Y-Yes! Wh—oof !”

Noya gave in to the exploding springs of joy wound up inside his limbs and tackled Asahi. The older boy landed heavily atop the pillows strewn across the bridge, wheezing a quiet ‘ow’ in protest. Noya scrambled up the giant’s body to press his lips firm against Asahi’s again for the two seconds he was able to stifle his excited jabbering.

“I have a boyfriend.”

“You do – Nishinoya, your elbow—”

“It’s you—”

“—it is me—thanks, breathing was starting to be a problem – can I kiss—”

“Anywhere you want.”

“General – general face. Area. Is sort of what I was hoping for.”

Noya propped himself up, his hands on either side of Asahi’s face. The older boy peered up at him through a curtain of disheveled brown hair, his eyes catching the light from one of the shadowed lanterns. Noya brushed a few strands off of Asahi’s forehead, fingers trembling as the silken threads slid over his skin.

“Thanks for saying yes,” he said, feeling the sudden urge to express his gratitude towards the lump of person pinned beneath him. “Thanks – I know I’m not great with words, and stuff but. I’m. Really glad you left your phone behind. Mr. Azumane.”

Asahi laughed softly, his fingers carding through Noya’s hair to pull him down.

“I’m really glad you returned it,” he said quietly, his lips so close they brushed against Noya’s with every word. “Mr. Nishinoya.”

“…Sappy,” Noya complained, laughing when Asahi’s face turned red. 

“Should I call you Yuyu instead?”

“God – not right now, please not—”

“Okay.”

“Okay thank you – just – I thought you were going to—”

“Kiss.”

“Yeah, kiss—please shut me up.”

“I won’t kiss you to shut you up. I don’t want you to shut up.”

“That – thank you, I’m too excited you probably shouldn’t take what I say seriously.”

“I still will.”

“That’s okay too – that’s. Everything’s good, thank you—”

“So can I—”

“Kiss.”

“—kiss, yeah. Can I—”

“Please.”

“Thank you—”

Noya let Asahi tug him down into an insistent kiss, his nose butting awkwardly against Asahi’s before they got settled. He felt Asahi laugh against him and lightly pinched his arm, grinning at the indignant puff of air the other boy chose to retaliate with. 

Noya’s arms were starting to ache from supporting his weight after hours of practice. But he’d be damned if he moved.

He had a boyfriend.

Fuck that sounded so weird. Boyfriend. He heard it at the station a lot. In the halls at school. Girls gossiping, guys bitching, throwing the word around with all the gravity and levity it held wrapped in its scaly relationship claws. Boyfriend. Holy shit, Boyfriend, what did that mean, was he going to have to tell—

Asahi’s lips moved against his, murmuring his name softly. Hopefully.

Noya parted his lips at the tacit request, like he’d done it a thousand times instead of only five. Six. More than half a dozen times in twenty-four hours. 

Maybe they were both just a little bit desperate.

Didn’t matter.

The rest of his thoughts melted, cotton candy against the warmth where Asahi’s tongue met his.

Boyfriend.

Asahi groaned and Noya let his chest press flush against the older boy’s, wanting to feel the noise, tremors in his body. Make his lungs seize and toes curl against the threadbare cushions.

Something to think about, worry about later. Something he’d keep just for them.

For now, at any rate.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it’s been an actual AGE since I had the time and mental health okayness to write.
> 
> Thanks you guys so much for your patience and your support! I have such a kind, enthusiastic readership, I really feel so, so lucky in that regard. Also! If you have criticism or a comment or something you'd actually like me to respond to, please message me over at my tumblr (lilienpasse.tumblr.com)! I almost never answer messages here -- they tend to slip through the cracks, but I'm very active on tumblr and always reply to messages! I love hearing from other asanoya fans and interacting with people so seriously feel free to send me a message, even if it's just freaking out over a ship or something. Of course you can always still post comments here but if you'd like me to respond, tumblr's the better choice!
> 
> Okay enjoy the chapter.

“Nishinoya – stop bein’ a little wuss! Just talk to him!”

“I don’t have anythin’ to say! I already told him he’s got a good serve, that’s enough!”

“You didn’t ‘tell him’ you yelled it in the middle of a play – he probably didn’t even know you were talkin’ about him!”

“I yelled his number.”

“You could at least quit bein’ a weirdo and introduce yourself. He’s not even an upperclassman!”

Noya pressed his lips together in silent protest and stubbornly bounced the ball against the heel of his hand before taking aim. It hit the wall and he had to jump to return it. His right shoulder hurt a little on the backswing. That probably wasn’t good. 

The ball ricocheted off to the side and Noya quickly scrambled after it, pushing his hair out of his eyes to track it as it rolled rolled rolled along the edge of the court. The other team was practicing serves. It was hard to dodge.

“Ah… man,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks color when the boys on the other side of the court started laughing. He managed to grab the ball before it escaped any further and quickly jogged back to his teammate’s side. Takayama was staring at him, looking unimpressed.

“Jeez… your form’s still terrible.”

“It’s gettin’ better, though,” Noya protested, tossing the ball up again. “I’m practicin’ lots! The WAPPOW part of it’s too fun – when it—like here! Listen!” 

Noya took aim and spiked the ball against the wall to demonstrate. It hit his palm funny, making a horrible smacking sound, and Noya let out a surprised yelp when the ball lightningbolted clear across the room. It bounded under the net like a white rabbit. Noya darted after it until it came to a stuttering halt at the feet of one of the other players.

Noya slowed his steps, his trainers squeaking.

It was The Other Player.

White shoes, red ankle socks.

Noya stared at the shoes.

He couldn’t remember what The Other Player’s face looked like. But he remembered his shoes. He kept looking at them during the game earlier. They moved really fast. Quick like a wild animal. In trainers.

The Other Player crouched down and picked up the ball, holding it out in his hand. His fingers were so thin. They held the ball like it was made of glass.

“Here.”

Noya quickly took the ball, lifting his head to meet The Other Player’s eyes. They were level with his own. Pale brown. He had hair so light it was nearly blond – it curled over his slightly pointy ears; how could Noya have not noticed that during the game he’d probably been too focused on The Other Player’s number the little schwoop schwoop of the three on his jersey. And his eyes were so big. He had really pale skin. Like those plates— the ones in the cabinet he wasn’t allowed to touch. The Other Player had been laughing with his teammates during warm ups he had a nice laugh it was really loud—

“—e you okay?”

Noya jumped and quickly grabbed the ball out of the other boy’s hands. His stomach was trying to invade his lungs.

“Yes!” he said firmly, just to erase any suspicion that he was not okay. “Yes – yes I’m – it’s – sorry about – swing. I’m working hard!”

The Other Player blinked his large eyes. His smile was kind. Confused.

“Um… good. That’s important –”

“My name is Nishinoya Yū – I’m a first year,” Noya heard himself blurt out. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his teammate give him a thumbs up. His smile didn’t say thumbs up, though. His smile said Nishinoya was acting like an idiot and being really loud.

The Other Player’s eyes widened. The bad kind of enlargening where right after the person that owned the eyes would dart off.

Noya felt his stomach sink, but then The Other Player engaged. He studied Noya. Looked at him and watched him close. Like how Noya had been watching him during the practice match. Noya stood still, the white ball clutched against his green jersey. His hair was falling in his eyes again. He wanted to push it back.

The Other Player twisted his jersey in his hands, worried at his lip and Noya could see a little red spot where the skin had been torn away.

“I’m a first year too—Fukuda Masanobu –you were really fast, though,” The Other Player said. Fukuda said. He could have a name now. His voice was kind of soft and gentle unlike when he laughed when it was normal guy sized. Maybe even giant sized.

Noya let out a little breath, relieved, and then grinned.

“You were fast, too! Like – like cheetah fast! I’ve never seen anyone cross the court like that before you made it look so easy! Two steps and BAM you got to the ball your legs were like – like a Transformers if Transformers were made of muscle instead of car parts!” he said passionately, meeting the other boy’s eyes. Light brown. His eyes were still big. Like mutant almonds in his skull, pretty shape.

Fukuda’s ears turned slightly red. His thin fingers plucked at his jersey. Noya couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or happy. Or upset? Nervous.

“Ah – yeah, I… Coach just put me on the back line recently—”

“Me too!” Noya said, taking a little step forward. “I wanted to play middle blocker – Coach put me on back row instead which I don’t like—it’s so hard to keep the team safe like that!”

“… Safe?”

“Yeah – yeah from spikes!” Noya swung his arm down fast, making the requisite ‘WHRUM!’ sound when the soft whoosh of moving air didn’t do the motion justice. “Blockers can keep everything over on the other side! With blocks or – or even better they can just WHAM spike it right back down while everyone else is getting ready to cheer for their own spiker!”

Fukuda took a little step backwards. He was fiddling with his jersey again. The number 3. His large, almond eyes darted around. Looking at the net.

“I guess?” he said, kindly. Nervously. “But they just protect the net. They can’t protect the floor, and that’s what—”

“Oi, Fukuda! Coach says we gotta pack it in!”

Another red jersey jogged up to stop beside Fukuda. He was taller, dark hair and thick eyebrows. They hovered, balconies over his clever eyes. He jerked his head slightly towards Noya.

“Who’s this?”

“Just a guy from the other team,” Fukuda said, offering Noya a smile. It said nothing. He waved his thin fingers. Also nothing.

“It was nice meeting you, Nishinoya. Good luck with your blocks.”

“Nice – nice meeting you, too,” Noya said automatically, hating how tasteless the words were. Stupid ice cubes numbing his tongue.

Fukuda smiled again, this one a little brighter but still dim like an old light bulb. And then he turned around, stepped a little closer to the other red jersey, his arm bumping his. When he moved his head to murmur something Noya saw him smile. It hurt his eyes to look at. The other red jersey was smiling too. They looked like good friends. It made Noya hug the ball to his chest again before he darted back over to his team. 

Takayama was doing a very bad job at pretending he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

Noya threw the ball at the back of his head.

“Ow—Nishinoya what was that for?!”

“How much did you hear?” Noya demanded, picking the ball up again and tossing it in the cart before Coach could yell. The old man was already looking a little worked up. His eyes were ballooning out of their sockets.

Takayama rubbed his head and glared sourly at Noya.

“All of it – you were bein’ creepy again.”

It made Noya’s ribs sting.

“Was not,” he shot back, stooping down to start gathering up the balls in earnest. Coach was already yelling at Kagawa. They’d be next.

“Were too – why d’you always get so worked up so fast? I told you to introduce yourself not start talkin’ about how great the guy’s legs are – what’s wrong with you?”

“He’s got cool legs!” Noya said defensively. “And eyes – they’re so big maybe he can see better that way…”

“You’ve got big eyes too, you freak,” Takayama muttered, shoving a few balls in the cart.

Noya stood up straight at that, the hair around his temples pricking.

“I’m not a freak,” he shot back.

“The guy thought you were! He practically ran away –”

Takayama glanced over at Noya, an unhappy look on his face.

“I’m not tryin’ to be mean,” he said. “I don’t want you to… I dunno. I don’t want people to think you’re weird. You should calm down and then go talk to people.”

“…I’m always calm before I talk to them,” Noya mumbled, still feeling sick from the word. Just a bit. “The problem’s stayin’ that way.” He suddenly perked up and turned to point a finger at Takayama’s face 

“And! And if he thought I was weird, why’d he give me good advice, huh?”

“…What kinda advice?” Takayama asked slowly. “He wasn’t another one of those assholes who told you to grow another ten centimeters was he? ‘Cause talk about pot and kettle and… green? I can’t remember how that goes—”

“No – that’s not advice that’s just being a dick.” Noya puffed up his chest at the use of the word. Takayama looked impressed.

“Okay – that’s all right I guess,” Takayama said, waving at the other first years who were gathering around the mops. “C’mon, let’s go before Hirano explodes.”

“’Kay. And yeah it was good,” Noya said happily, jogging after Takayama.

“So what ‘d he say that was so good?” Takayama asked once they reached the mops. He tossed one to Noya, who caught it and began jogging along, pushing his mop.

“He told me to guard the floor!” Noya said, grinning at Takayama. Who didn’t look impressed. He looked kind of let down. 

Noya stopped, leaning on his mop for a moment.

“What – what c’mon!” he protested, reaching out to prod Takayama in the arm. “That’s cool! He said I shouldn’t guard the net, I should guard the floor! It makes sense – it’s good advice!”

“…Are you sure that’s how he phrased it?” Takayama said slowly, glancing across the room towards the other leaving team. 

“Positive,” Noya said happily, solidifying the memory in his brain just like that. Didn’t need the part about the almond eyes or slightly curly hair. 

“Huh.”

Takayama resumed cleaning, ducking under the net. Noya followed, not having to stoop quite as much. 

Suddenly Takayama stopped. He looked at Noya and opened his mouth, his dark eyes flashing for a moment with something that made Noya’s feet feel like running. A questioning, suspicious flash. Tiger eyes staring down the barrel of an empty shotgun. 

But then the look faded and instead Takayama smiled. Housecat friendly.

“It’s not bad advice,” he said agreeably. “I wish I were better at coverin’ the floor. My back hurts from havin’ to bend over so often.”

“Yeah, I hate when my legs start to shake in the middle of a match,” Noya said, relieved that he hadn’t had to run. He started to say something else, but then a laugh from across the room caught his attention. He craned his neck just in time to see Fukuda leaving. His teammate’s arm was wrapped around his shoulders. They were both laughing, Fukuda tugging on the other boy’s jacket zipper pull.

“Nishinoya – see this is what I mean about you actin’ weird!”

A quick jerk to Noya’s shirt made him turn around immediately, grumpy at having been interrupted in his study.

“Ow! What? What’d I do now?”

“You were starin’,” Takayama said bluntly. “And bein’ weird.”

Noya bristled and shoved his mop along the floor, feeling embarrassed and caged.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Were too,” Takayama shot back.

\---

“Was not!”

“Were too – God damn, Noya, how old are you?”

Noya glared at Ryū, trying to inject as much friendly malice and mind-your-own-fucking-businessness into the glare as he could. 

“I don’t stare at other players – I’m not a freak,” he muttered, shoving a few balls into the cart.

“Whoa – bustin’ out the ‘f’ word. I so didn’t call you that.”

“Yeah well – well you were probably thinkin’ it.”

“I can guaran-fuckin’-tee you, the shit I was thinkin’ was a lot more creative than ‘freak’.” Ryū grinned, thumbing his nose at him. “Little firecracker.”

Noya stopped what he was doing, his ears turning red.

“Don’t,” he said warningly.

“Red dwarf.”

“Ryū.”

“Our pint-sized dynamo—”

“Cut it out!”

Noya lobbed a ball at Ryū’s head, which the bastard caught effortlessly. He let out one of his gut-busting laughs, twirling the ball on his finger.

“There it is! The infamous Nishinoya fastball –”

“You suck,” Noya muttered, watching the ball spin on Ryū’s finger for a good five seconds before he admitted grudgingly, “You’ve gotten really good at that.”

“Thanks. I only practice whenever you do or say somethin’ inane so that’s probably more tellin’ than you’d like it to be.”

Noya rolled his eyes but continued with clean up. He cast a glance across the court every now and then. Dammit – dammit, Suga was still talking to him –

“So what’d you say to Mr. Libero over there?”

“Wha-! What – nothin’!” Noya glanced back towards Suga and then quickly looked away when the libero he was talking to moved his head slightly. 

Ah, dammit. Busted. His ears were on fire, he knew they had to be. He could practically smell his hair singing.

Ryū whistled lowly and peered around Noya.

“Shit, man,” he said sympathetically. “I haven’t seen you this star struck in a while.”

“He’s an amazin’ libero,” Noya said passionately, bending down to pick up the last of the balls. “And that’s all I told him.”

“Aw… really? You didn’t even get his number?”

Ryū quickly held up his hands when Noya narrowed his eyes.

“Strictly to ask for advice! Libero to libero – I bet you two would have a lot to talk about completely on a platonic level.”

Noya relaxed slightly, but then winced at his own idiocy. 

Shit.

“I didn’t even think to ask,” he mumbled, raking a hand down his face in despair. “Dammit – maybe I can get Suga to get it… or I could guess. Just start punchin’ numbers in randomly.”

“Well, you ask Suga, then…”

Ryū trailed off and gave Noya a pointed look. One he didn’t really know how to read.

Noya waited a few seconds and then prompted, “And?”

“And – you know.”

Ryū jerked his head towards the net, where Asahi was helping some of the Nekoma guys take down the poles. Noya furrowed his brow.

“…Yeah?”

“Noya – c’mon, man… haven’t you watched any dramas?”

Ryū winced at what must have been a horror-struck look on Noya’s face. He quickly held up his hands.

“Fine! Fine – I keep forgettin’ I’m dealin’ with someone who lives under a pop culture rock…”

“Hey I know things!” Noya protested, tugging down his kneepads finally. God that felt good…

“You know the important things, that’s true,” Ryū generously agreed. “But now that you’re – y’know.” He waved his hands around and then clapped them together.

Noya stared.

“…Is that supposed to mean somethin’?”

“God – don’t make me say it,” Ryū muttered, rubbing at his forehead. He leaned down just a bit and said quietly, “Now that you’re… uh… involved. You gotta be, y’know. With Asahi’s –… y’know.”

“I’m positive I don’t.”

“Feelin’s! God dammit man you gotta be careful with his feelin’s! His little emotion babies—”

“Oh gross don’t call them that!” Noya hissed, sticking out his tongue. “That’s so… disturbin’. For any number of reasons.”

“Well they gotta be nurtured – what else d’you nurture besides a baby?”

“A plant?! A puppy – a pet rock literally anythin’ other than a baby for that metaphor next time!”

“Fine – fine, okay.” 

Ryū scratched the top of his head, looking harried. And kind of old.

“Asahi’s… pet rocks,” he said reluctantly. “You gotta be careful with them. He’s probably not jealous – not like Kimiko in Reluctant Strangers oh my god she was a mess or – fuck, Shige in Stars Among Us grade A stalker—”

“Ryū this is unrelatable to me.”

“Sorry! Sorry – okay just don’t… y’know. Go around askin’ for other guy’s numbers in ways that would let Asahi hear about it. You gotta leave time for you to tell him it’s just for game stuff before Suga casually mentions it and Asahi implodes like a can of Coke in outer space.”

The light bulb suddenly clicked on.

Noya let out a snort and turned to look at Asahi, who was stammering something at Nekoma’s captain. The smarmy guy. Asahi looked ready to drop the pole on his foot. He’d clearly braced himself for the inevitable impact. Was probably calculating the number of toes he’d lose, his eyebrows were doing their weird little scrunchy thing—

“Focus, please, Mr. Nishinoya.”

Noya managed to tear his gaze away from the miracle of human interaction unfolding on the other side of the court. He glanced at Ryū and then shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna be a problem.”

“…You focusin’?” Ryū said slowly. “’Cause I can hear several teachers havin’ irony-induced heart attacks right now—”

“Asahi’s not gonna get jealous,” Noya said simply, pushing the cart towards the supply room. “Not now that we’ve had a couple good talks about it. He knows what’s up.”

“Aren’t we rosy-eyed today.”

“It’s not gonna be an issue. I know it.”

“You’re two days into this – whatever – new understandin’. You can’t possibly—”

“Not an issue.”

Noya could practically feel Ryū rolling his eyes, but all his friend did was cluck softly in disbelief and follow after him. The silence made Noya relax – quiet enough that he could actually hear Asahi’s soft voice from all the way across the gym. He was asking Nekoma’s captain about non-dominant spikes. His voice had lost its slight waver. Meant he was really focused on the conversation, had gone into ‘camcorder mode’ where he’d hone in on every little detail to play back later. The one time his anxiety about conversational niceties came in handy, meant he had a good memory—and he really was better at interacting with people than he thought. Just had to get past the—

Noya jumped when he felt Ryū tug on the back of his shirt, yanking it up until it was no longer tucked into his shorts. Noya stopped pushing the cart, glancing up curiously at his friend. Ryū shrugged and said blandly, “You looked flushed. Figured you could use some extra air to cool your rapidly palpitatin’ heart.”

“I’m not flushed I’m –preoccupied, I guess. Or fine maybe – maybe residual flustered from talkin’ with that other libero,” Noya said in protest, stashing the cart next to the rest of them. “You know I’m not good at bein’ flustered.”

“No you are not,” Ryū said in immediate agreement, pausing to nod respectfully at the Mohawk kid from the other team, who looked honored to have been acknowledged. Noya raised an eyebrow at his friend as they headed back towards the team.

“That was very smooth of you.”

Ryū actually blushed a little. He waved his hand through the air like an unsure conductor.

“Yeah – well, he’s got a thing for Kiyoko.”

Noya raised his other eyebrow in alarm but Ryū quickly said, “We came to an understandin’.”

Noya relaxed but then groaned softly.

“Poor bastard. His torment’s only begun. It’s still so new…”

“So fresh. He hasn’t even had the bittersweet pleasure of her opening a door right into his face.”

“Just further proof of her divinity. Why should a goddess cede the road to mortals?”

“Noya – dammit.” Ryū threw an arm over his eyes, clearly overcome with emotion. “You get it, man. You get it.”

“I really do,” Noya said in sympathy, patting his friend’s shoulder. He noticed Ryū looking at him from underneath his elbow. Studying him.

Noya frowned.

“…What?”

“Nothin’,” Ryū said quickly, lowering his arm. “…I mean it’s only been two days. Kinda stupid of me to worry—”

“Worry about what?”

“—that you’ll – Noya, turtledove, would you let me finish, please?”

Noya obediently zipped his lips. Ryū nodded in approval, but then his expression crystallized. He rubbed the back of his neck, his footsteps slowing as they approached the rest of the team.

“…I’m wonderin’ if you’ll lose that – if Kiyoko won’t really be… I dunno. Immortal. Anymore. To you,” Ryū said awkwardly. “Considerin’ you’ve got – uh... a. Well, fuck me, Asahi is about as mortal as they come, I dunno what to call him.”

“…an Asahi,” Noya said automatically, glancing over the court towards where Asahi was struggling to keep his composure in front of the Nekoma first years. They were asking him lots of questions. The panic was starting to set in. Noya had to scrunch his toes up in his shoes to keep from bolting over and rescuing their ace. Rescuing Asahi or encouraging the Nekoma first years, he wasn’t sure which. Asahi could do with more interactive practice. 

“…Sure. Just a hair too specific for my tastes, but we’ll go with that,” Ryū said, sounding horribly uninspired. “We’ll have to come up with somethin’ better, though. To say around the team.”

“Why can’t we talk about Asahi around the team?” Noya asked, still watching Asahi carefully to try and read the older boy’s ‘talk or tremble’ meter. “He’s the team’s Asahi.”

“’The team’s Asahi’ that is so fuckin’ polygamal,” Ryū muttered, making a face. “Makes it sound like we’re all jonsin’ for him when in reality only one eleventh of our tiny population sample is even remotely interested. He’s our ace. He’s your… first name basis. Person.” He nodded firmly and then mumbled, “And you’re dodgin’ my question which is makin’ me nervous so hurry up an’ say somethin’.”

“You babble when you’re anxious and it makes it difficult to talk and answer questions. I need a sec to process,” Noya reminded his friend, finally wrenching himself out of rescue or ridicule mode. Asahi was fine. Harried but fine. A bit of extra socializing was good for him. Plus Noya was pretty sure that if he ran over there without the surge of adrenaline practice and matches afforded him he was going to do something really stupid. Like touch Asahi’s arm or look at him too much and guys would know. That was what Asahi was worried about. Guys knowing. Apparently they were good at noticing and keeping speculative theories to themselves but bad at dealing with knowing. Whatever that meant. 

Noya quickly glanced around the gym, a bit irritated with himself that he actually had to search for Kiyoko, when he used to just know where–

Fuck. Was he a stalker? 

No – no he was pretty sure stalkers sent weird notes or pieces of their… eyelashes or whatever. And knew where people lived. He didn’t – Ryū didn’t either they weren’t entitled to know she probably lived in a modern style mansion apartment hugging the mountains, white and clean her bed was probably clouds with tiny fairies that cleaned her glasses—

Kiyoko was talking to the libero.

Noya reached out and grabbed Ryū’s sleeve, gesturing frantically towards the scene unfolding on the other side of the gym.

“What – Noya, use your words. You’re gonna rip my uniform again—”

“They’re talking,” Noya hissed, darting behind Ryū just so he could peer across the gym at the two third years. The libero with the tiny eyebrows and soft looking hair and the girl who defied description.

Ryū followed Noya’s gaze and then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh fuck – oh fuck you must be peein’ a little.”

“A little.”

“What d’you think they’re talkin’ about?”

“Dunno – Ryū he keeps lookin’ over here – are they talkin’ about us?!”

Ryū made a pained noise, his hand flying up to clutch at his chest.

“If they are – then that means she said—”

“She said our names,” Noya whimpered, his grip tightening on the back of Ryū’s jersey. “Oh god she probably said our names to him Ryū he’s so talented and now he probably knows my name –”

“I’m – I’m pretty sure they had a roster –”

“How d’you think she said it?! Like – full of neutrality?! Disdain?”

“I don’t think she hates us… probably full on neutral. They are lookin’ over here a lot, though—”

“Ryū I’m goin’ to be sick he keeps peerin’ around her –”

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Noya jumped at the voice and felt Ryū do the same. He glanced over his shoulder at Ennoshita, who looked almost concerned. Noya had never seen his eyes narrow that much outside of the weird power naps he took on the bus. He could sleep with his eyes half open. It was terrifying and served as the core foundation of his ‘yeah Ennoshita is probably a robot of some sort’ theory.

“Chikara – Chikara they’re talkin’ about us! Probably.”

“Ennoshita you’re suave – go over there and just listen – be a casual observer and report back!”

“No, I don’t think I want to do that,” Ennoshita said lightly, his eyebrows hitching their way up his forehead. “And we’re leaving anyway. Daichi sent me to get you. Why I’ve been ordained your official wrangler I’ll never know, but it’s a badge I wear with… indifference.” He lightly patted them on the shoulders. “Come on, now. Get your sweats. Chop chop.”

Noya grudgingly released his death grip on Ryū’s jersey and trudged over towards his bag, Ryū plodding along beside him. “How’s he got his life so put together?” Ryū mumbled. “My mom kept talkin’ about him – apparently he helped her brew a bunch of tea at our lunch break the other day and now she thinks he’s a saint.”

“I’ve read some of his movie scripts. Guy’s no saint.”

Noya crouched down next to his bag, yanking out his sweats. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the libero joining the rest of the Nekoma team. He kicked one of them in the ass. The guy with the Mohawk. 

Dammit. He was so cool—

Oh right.

Noya slowly zipped up his jacket, studying Ryū for a moment. His friend looked pensive. When he thought too hard he took on a kind of genie quality. It was the shaved head. Just missing earrings.

Noya cleared his throat.

“So obviously if Kiyoko ever meets that guy again I’m goin’ to go into immediate cardiac arrest. You should probably start practicin’ rubbin’ those little hot plates together to jam against my chest.”

Ryū snorted quietly as he stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He suddenly grinned and socked Noya in the sternum.

“Nah, I’ll just shove Asahi at you.”

“Wh – how would that help?” Noya wheezed, rubbing at the sore spot.

“If your little libero crush makes your heart stop, seems logical to toss the thing at you that makes it go all a-pitter-patter.”

“Asahi isn’t a defibrillator substitute—”

“Not with that attitude he isn’t.”

Noya opened his mouth to respond with something else inane (and maybe a little dickish – the punch had kind of hurt), but something in Ryū’s expression made him chose silence instead. The way his eyes darted around too fast. Like some kind of hunted animal. Deer, maybe. Meant he was mulling something over. Noya didn’t want to interrupt the process.

A heavy tread approached from behind, making both of them turn around. Asahi shuddered to a stop in front of them, several strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Tanaka immediately burst out laughing and started gently ribbing Asahi about his popularity. Noya pinched his own leg to keep from reacting too much – he wanted to reach out to poke and prod and touch because that’s what he could do now, Asahi had said so, he could touch him. It was the best kind of trusting power trip to have that sort of permission and Noya had gotten in the really bad habit of touch touch touch, Asahi’s arm his elbow his jaw and at night his hand before they went to sleep. Noya wasn’t even sure if they meant anything, all the little touch touch touch but he liked them – if he were better at remembering and holding onto things he’d probably catalogue them, the where and duration and body part and reaction.

But Asahi had also said normal and subtle on the court, and Noya had agreed. 

Which meant no arms elbows or jaws. Definitely no hands.

It was fine when his body had been in motion but the moment it stopped it wanted Asahi. Skin on his fingertips, lips.

Noya licked his lips automatically, wondering if he should be at least a little freaked out that he now knew what it felt like to bite someone’s earlobe. Granted Asahi had yelped and ruined the moment which honestly wasn’t exactly tender to start with, more like morbid curiosity and—

Court. Normal subtle. No earlobes either.

Noya tossed a towel over Asahi’s head.

It helped.

The older boy slowly straightened up, groaning softly as he mopped at his forehead.

“They wouldn’t… let me go… Kept asking questions about my training regiment…” he panted, casting a nervous glance that the Nekoma team, some of whom were waving enthusiastically at him. Their captain seemed amused. Or maybe he always grinned like that.

“Why didn’t you just tell them—”

“You train outside of practice?”

Asahi glanced between the two of them, looking unsure as to whom to address first. Noya subtly pointed to Ryū and Asahi obediently shifted his attention as they walked.

“Yeah, I… just simple calisthenics and cardio,” he said quietly. “It’s nothing to write home about—”

“He modeled his routine off of Olympic decathlon guys,” Noya said, taking over when Asahi refused to give himself the proper credit. “He used to puke every day when he first started out, it was so intense—”

“I don’t think Tanaka cares about all those details…” Asahi mumbled, but there was a light flush on his cheeks that meant he was pleased about something.

Ryū hummed in admiration, sizing Asahi up for a moment before he grinned.

“That’s pretty amazing, though. Decathlon?”

“Just their earliest stages of training… it’s really not that impress—”

“It’s ridiculous, his arms bulge out like crazy – he looks like he could wrestle a bear,” Noya interrupted, shooting Asahi a little look of disapproval. Asahi met it with a weary one of his own but then sighed and mumbled, “It’s a lot of work but it’s rewarding. I’m glad I’m making progress.”

Noya nodded and very lightly tapped Asahi on the back.

“Better.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Noya bit back a laugh at the almost petulant tone.

“First years make you grumpy?”

“It was a lot of talking. To people I’d only met once, and by met I mean I hit a ball towards them at aggressive speeds,” Asahi mumbled, wiping his face again. “Do you mind if we’re quiet for a bit—oh, uh… actually, Tanaka? Can I ask you something first?”

“Me?” Ryū stopped in his tracks, staring at the older boy in surprise. He suddenly looked nervous. “Sure? Sure. Yes?”

“I-It’s nothing serious – I shouldn’t have phrased it so forbiddingly,” Asahi said quickly, his cheeks going pale. Noya took a little step back to watch the train wreck. Asahi looked like a Great Dane trying to coax an ornery pit bull into playing. Ryū just looked confused.

“It’s fine, Asahi. What did you need?”

The polite language seemed to throw Asahi for a loop, but then he straightened his shoulders and asked very seriously, “Can Nishinoya sit next to me on the train. Please.”

“…What—”

“Why’re you askin’ him?!”

Asahi immediately cowered behind the sweaty towel.

“I – you two always sit together, and since Tanaka’s the only one who knows about – about… about—”

“Fight through it, Asahi, Noya will respect you more.”

“—about. Th. The. Understanding,” Asahi finally forced out, staring apologetically at Noya. “Sorry, Nishinoya. I should’ve – uh.” He paused. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “…Should I have asked you first?”

Noya scrunched his lips off to the side, staring at Asahi before deciding he didn’t know and turning to glance at Ryū instead. Asahi followed suit, looking lost.

Ryū stared back at the two of them for a moment before bursting out, “How should I know?! Don’t – c’mon, guys, please don’t use me as your couple’s counselor this early in the game…”

“I’m torn between thinking it was a noble gesture and being annoyed that he didn’t just ask or assume it would be okay,” Noya said, ignoring Ryū’s protesting whines.

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to monopolize all of Nishinoya’s time,” Asahi said earnestly.

“Wh—I know you’re not, Asahi, it’s okay,” Ryū said quickly, backing up just a bit. “It’s been like – it’s been two days, though, if tha.t I think it’s okay to want to… you know. Keep being together. Physi—uh. In. In the same space. Area. I appreciate you asking? Though?”

Ryū glanced hopelessly at Noya, who just shrugged before asking bluntly, “So you’re okay with it? ‘Cause I was… I was sorta gonna ask you the same thing. But I forgot. Until now. Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Ryū said, holding up his hands. “I’ve got my sister’s DS so it’s probably better if you aren’t around to steal it, honestly.” 

Asahi let out a huge ‘whoopf’ of air as he sighed, scrubbing at his face.

“Thanks – and sorry, Tanaka, really,” he said quietly. “And you, too, Nishinoya. This is still a bit—”

“Boys! You’d better hurry up!” 

Takeda was standing in the doorway, pointing to his watch and giving them an apologetic smile. Asahi immediately shut his mouth, but offered both second years a little smile before jogging ahead to catch up with Suga and Daichi who were just on the other side of the doorway. He bent down to speak to them. Daichi hit him in the back of the head a moment later.

Noya scowled slightly but kept his disapproval to himself. Daichi and Asahi were friends. That wasn’t atypical. At least Daichi didn’t hit as hard as Suga – or so rumor said, anyway—

“Your, uh… Asahi’s a little. Asahi. Still,” Ryū suddenly said, haltingly. 

“Who else would he be?” Noya asked, picking up the pace when Ukai gestured towards them. Kind of rudely – it wasn’t like all his other fingers were broken except that one. 

“I dunno. Like – cooler, I guess,” Ryū muttered, ducking out the door after Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. “Isn’t that the whole goal of bein’ social in high school? To date? And if you’re datin’ then you’re – you’re cooler, right?”

“The whole point is to be able to talk to girls, I thought,” Noya mumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Kiyoko, who was exchanging contact information with the other team’s manager. “And I’m still fuckin’ – disaster.”

“Yeah, but the point of talkin’ to girls is to get them to date you,” Ryū pressed. “You kinda ended up in a different place maybe but end goal achieved. Same with Asahi – well moreso with him ‘cause no offense to him but he got the better end of the deal if you don’t mind my sayin’.”

Noya elbowed Ryū in the ribs to get him to shut up for a second; Tsukishima’s headphones weren’t completely on. Ryū winced but obediently fell silent as everyone said their final goodbyes and started the quick trek to the bus stop that would haul their exhausted selves to the station. Noya grabbed onto Ryū’s sleeve to get him to hang back a bit so he could say very firmly, “Asahi is just as cool as me. Puttin’ that on the official record.”

“Hey, man, I’m not sayin’ he isn’t,” Ryū said quickly. “But if I were gonna date one of you – maybe I just don’t have a thing for people taller than me. Must be it.”

“Must be – you’re not allowed to date Asahi anyway, I said so,” Noya said, feeling childish and stupid for the bit of panicked jealousy that flared up in his gut.

“I’m not gonna go near him in anythin’ resemblin’ a romantic fashion,” Ryū said dryly, holding out his pinkie. “Need me to swear on it?”

“No – I’ll spare your pinkie this time,” Noya muttered, rubbing his neck. “And yeah, I know. You wouldn’t. Even if this were some alternate universe where I was datin’ Kiyoko you’d just be happy for me.”

“Gods above!” Ryū staggered, clutching dramatically at his chest. “Fucking what Mr. Nishinoya you cannot just drop such a horrifying scenario on me with no warning! One of the chambers of my heart collapsed!”

Noya stopped in his tracks, actually worried for a second – sometimes Ryū’s dramatics were to cover up real emotions. Probably a solid sixty three percent of the time. The rest was just him being an idiot. When it didn’t seem like Ryū was really getting ready to burst into panicked, blubbery tears, Noya relaxed.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he demanded, punching his friend in the shoulder. “For a split second I thought you were actually upset. Like the time that beautiful French-Canadian exchange student who was livin’ with you guys said you were ‘too childish.’”

“Too childish – what’d she know, I was plenty charmin.’ And I was fourteen – how the hell can you expect a fourteen year old to be anythin’ but childish,” Ryū said sullenly, his mood obviously souring a bit. He waved his hand to clear the air. “But anyway, compliment accepted, I am the best of friends. And yeah even if you were datin’ Kiyoko you know I’d still walk you down the aisle, man. With happy tears poolin’ in my expressive, dewy eyes. And clearly I need to keep my even neutral opinions of Asahi to myself, lest you over-hasten to correct me and trip on your armfuls of compliments.”

“You can be neutral towards him. He’s got a pretty neutral personality most of the time…” Noya said slowly, not really sure where this was coming from. Or why he suddenly felt like this was maybe one of Ryū’s sixty three percent of times.

But Ryū just laughed and said, “Maybe someday,” in an evasive way that grated a bit on Noya’s nerves. He let it go and changed the subject to video games and the new type of melon bread 7-11 had started carrying and if Ryū was really going to collect all the stickers there were at least eighty different ones there was no way – okay fine collect all the stickers could he have the duplicates?

The bus was full of noisy middle schoolers which made it hard to stick together. Noya ended up having to squeeze behind the driver just to have a place to stand. Thankfully the ride to the station was a short one, and Noya extracted himself before his legs fell asleep. Couldn’t risk tumbling up the station steps in front of Kiyoko.

Or Asahi.

He supposed.

Noya paused to adjust his bag, glancing up ahead where Asahi was talking with his fellow third years.

If Noya tripped on the steps in front of Kiyoko, she would either move politely off to the side and say nothing, erasing the moment from existence, or would calmly point out his dilemma to someone else if he were in need of assistance. In a romance comic or something she might offer him a handkerchief. Didn’t seem likely in real life.

If he fell in front of Asahi. Panic. Hoisting up under the armpits. Inspecting palms, knees, sigh of relief.

Handkerchief.

Noya bit his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot, pressing a hand gently against Ryū’s face when his friend started to mock his dopey smile.

There’d be a handkerchief. Definitely. White, kind of rumpled. Maybe emblazoned with some monogram Asahi would have no idea where it came from.

But handkerchief definitely. Soft cotton against skin, gentle admonishings before reason caught up and Asahi remembered they were only ten months apart, apology, gentle teasing about maybe buying the right shoe size next time or getting more sleep or Nishinoya do you need help reviewing the characters for ‘caution,’ ‘wet,’ and ‘floor’? 

Noya frowned as a bit of Ryū’s voice snuck in on that last one. He shook his head pop the thought bubble and tuned back into whatever Ryū was saying. Something about meteorites and banana flavored milk.

The platform was deserted except for their group. Noya plunked down in front of one of the pillars, chatting with Ennoshita and Narita about the new bullet train he heard they were making; no he didn’t know anything about it but yeah it could go hella fast apparently like NYORM so fuckin’ fast, breaking the sound barrier. Yeah he knew that wasn’t really possible, no he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what the sound barrier was but there was a John Wayne movie where they’d mentioned it once because bullets going fast.

As the announcer’s voice crackled over the PA system, the sleek, white train slid into the station. Ukai was in rare herding form, counting each of their heads with his knuckles as he ushered them into the proper car. Third class; meant they could talk if they did it quietly.

Noya ducked into the middle aisle, slipping past a couple of businessmen. Ryū abandoned him next to Ennoshita. He held up his DS and grinned, mouthing, ‘I’ll ask Sae if you can borrow it.’ Noya gave his friend a thumbs up and then went looking for Asahi.

Back row of the car, practically falling out of his seat into the aisle. Bag in his lap. Mouth twisted into a frown, eyebrows that were furrowed and gaze fixed in his lap, clearly wondering if a gym bag and barf bag were interchangeable.

Noya felt his chest do that boa constrictor thing. Organs ground into meat, heart running at breakneck speeds trying in vain to escape, kidneys and pancreas getting too intimate to sustain his life for much longer. The squeezing made his steps slow as he approached the little aisle.

Asahi glanced up, a few strands of still-sweaty hair falling into his eyes. His skin was glistening. The bad kind – he needed to wash his face, his hair, there were white flecks around the corner of his mouth from toothpaste – why’d he brush his teeth after a volleyball game what a weirdo –

Oh.

Noya’s mouth suddenly felt like a science experiment.

He cleared his throat. Before he could say anything Asahi smiled. Shy.

“Aisle or window?”

Noya froze, not anticipating the question. Was that Japanese. Were those words he knew was Asahi asking a question this was the first time they’d be semi-alone in a place that wasn’t la-la retreat land where nothing mattered but suddenly train and it was real world with businessmen snoring on the other side of the aisle– and that was one of the words, aisle or window which did he want, which would be worse did Asahi have a preference did it matter why was he taking so lon—

“Wind—isle,” Noya said quickly, the constrictor grabbing hold of his lungs this time as Asahi tilted his head to the side. Guys his size and weight shouldn’t be allowed to do that, the motion was for cats or turtles or – fuck what animals were cute?

“…I’m. Not sure which— N-Nishinoya!”

Noya gave up and half-scooted half-crawled across Asahi’s lap, settling next to the window. He hunched down a bit, his face burning.

“…Window.”

“Win—window it is,” Asahi said weakly, letting out a dorky little gasp when the train suddenly started to move. He turned to stare warily out the window.

“…That’s why I hate these things sometimes,” he muttered. “You have two seconds to get on or off before you’re suddenly a hundred kilometers in the opposite direction. They don’t give you enough time to double check and make sure you’re on the right train.”

Noya watched the rest of the platform fly by the window until it was shoved away by the gray concrete of other buildings.

“You must be fun to travel with,” he said before he could rethink how dickish that might have sounded. His eyes flicked up to fix on Asahi’s face, worried for a moment until Asahi laughed and said somberly, “I’m a disaster. If I so much as see an airplane I start babbling in airport codes and flight schedules and have to be restrained for my own safety.”

Noya let out a bark of surprised laughter that made the snoring businessman stop snoring and start glaring. Noya just shifted a bit so that Asahi’s bulk blocked the man from view.

“What about once you’re on the plane, though?” he asked cheekily. “I take it that’s when Spa Day Asahi comes out? Relaxes? Orders a diet ginger ale and puts his feet up?”

“Ah – not quite,” Asahi said mildly. “More like white-knuckles the entire flight, an elephant-grade tranquilizer in hand for emergencies. Emergencies being, of course, almost any time the fasten seatbelt sign comes on.”

Noya snickered quietly and relaxed against the plush seat, tugging his knees up against his chest. Benefit of being small.

“I’ve only been on two flights ever. Visiting my grandparents in Okinawa.”

“Oh? Are you from there?”

“They moved down there when they retired,” Noya said. “Mom’s parents. Dad’s parents are dead. Before I was born so there’s no need to look so pained.”

“Oh thank god,” Asahi said in one dramatic breath, tilting his head back to rest against the seat. “I hadn’t prepared to have the dead grandparents conversation this early.”

Noya bit back a snort of laughter, lowering his voice when the businessman across the way narrowed his eyes at them. 

“But you were planning on preparing for it? Is that what I’m supposed to take away from this?”

“Yes. That I am prepared for or intending to prepare for every possible awkward conversation. And also that despite my preparation I’ll inevitably flub my lines anyway,” Asahi mumbled, sinking down in his seat a bit. His knees were touching the back of the seat in front of him. Noya tugged his bag off and set it down on the shelf Asahi’s legs made.

“It must suck being tall, sometimes,” he observed.

Asahi remained still for a moment and then nodded very slightly.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, glancing at Noya. “Like how you’re sitting – with your knees against your chest. I like sitting like that. But it’s… it’s not really possible anymore.”

Noya frowned slightly and then ventured, “Because your pecs are too big?”

“…N-…No. No.”

“Abs too strong? It’s probably like trying to bend steel.”

“Nishinoya – you don’t… I’m not fishing for compliments. I don’t need them,” Asahi mumbled, sinking even lower and quickly straightening Noya’s bag when it looked to be in danger of tipping.

“Yes you do. Asahi you’re the person in the world who needs compliments the most, probably,” Noya said, glaring back at the businessman when the man harrumphed noisily. He wasn’t even being that loud. What a jerk. 

“No – well, maybe. Sometimes – who doesn’t like praise and… but… still, I…”

Asahi trailed off into indistinct mutterings. Noya had to slouch down in his seat as well to hear him. 

“I can get that guy to stop glaring if it’ll help you speak up,” Noya offered, glancing around from his new lower vantage point. “…It’s kind of nice down here, though. You’re blocking the aisle so it’s like I’ve got my own private car. Just me and your left side.”

“It is my better side,” Asahi said quietly, offering Noya a small smile at the younger boy’s prompting. It quickly disappeared, though, when a burst of laughter from the front of the car made everyone jump. Suga’s voice.

“He’s so loud – his mother calls him ‘delicate,’” Asahi muttered, fiddling with the zipper pull on Noya’s bag. “He must act completely differently at home. Refined, maybe.”

“He’s got a face that says ‘refined.’ With the little mole and everything,” Noya mused, lightly knocking his knees against Asahi’s just to see what he would do. 

Froze like a popsicle. Eyes darting around. Just from a little bump.

Noya moved his knee away and reluctantly threw the rest of his tentative train ride plans out the window. Hand holding probably out of the question. Fake nap against Asahi’s shoulder also a bust. Man… man he even had to scrap pretending to fix Asahi’s collar, his jacket was perfectly in place somehow despite Asahi’s amateur contortionist act.

Noya suddenly frowned.

If Asahi hadn’t wanted to sit next to him to do something dumb and cheesy like try and hold his hand – which the constant wiggling and subtly moving away from him said he wasn’t, then—

“Why’d you ask Ryū if we could sit together?”

Asahi’s zipper fiddling doubled in intensity. He didn’t look up.

“…It bothers you.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Noya said patiently. “You were so nervous when you cornered Ryū, I figured it’d be something – along uh… y’know.” 

His neck suddenly felt hot. Like his skin was remembering where Asahi’s lips had been the day before.

“Oh.”

Asahi shook his head and glanced out the window. Noya could practically see him calculating their speed, weighing the odds of surviving a controlled tuck-and-roll out of a moving bullet train. Noya shifted to block Asahi’s view and managed to catch his gaze before the older boy could look away again.

“Are you really not that interested in answering the question?”

“It’s not – I don’t care, but—”

“If you don’t care then just answer.”

“It’s – it’s embarrassing…”

“I promise you it isn’t.”

“But—”

“Asahi. Seriously. It won’t be.”

Something in his voice finally must have registered, because Asahi’s eyes lost their flight-or-flight gleam. He sat back and Noya followed, curling up sideways in the seat so he could give Asahi his full attention. Asahi shrugged his broad shoulders, his fingers returning to the zipper on Noya’s bag.

“I thought you’d have – I dunno, a bunch of charms or character straps or something on your bag when we first met,” he said suddenly. “You had that kind of energy – kind of childish, I guess, but… colorful. I was sort of disappointed you didn’t…”

“I did in junior high,” Noya said, letting his head rest against the back cushion. “Lots. Some with bells. And like a million expired omamori amulets. Most of them from my mom. The ‘Study Hard’ ones.”

Asahi finally laughed. Rich and bright. Cheerful citrus. It made his throat move. He needed to shave; Noya could see a bit of stubble along his jaw line.

“I bet you were the kind of kid who would secretly open the little omamori pouches just to see what was inside. Even though the shrine maidens and your parents told you not to, that it would make them not work,” Asahi quietly teased, tilting his body to block out the aisle.

Noya wrinkled his nose, feeling his cheeks start to color.

“Maybe,” he said evasively, bristling when Asahi laughed again. “What?!”

“And?” Asahi gently prompted. “What was in them?”

Noya pursed his lips and then finally looked away, admitting defeat. Asahi was too close. It was hard to maintain eye contact without drawing attention. In many ways.

“…In the ‘Study Hard’ ones – there were these little golden books,” he mumbled. “I mean just a single one in each amulet, but—”

“But you had to check all of them?”

“Yeah – what if one had been different? Or – I dunno.” Noya scratched his arm, frowning as he tried to remember. “They had a little… a little Buddha image carved onto them. I thought – man what a waste, someone took the time to carve a Buddha on this tiny book that was the size of my pinkie nail and no one was allowed to look at them… ‘course now I know they’re all machine made or whatever, so…”

He worried at his lip and then glanced at Asahi.

“…They’re – they are probably made in a factory, right? I didn’t… I dunno, mess up some monk’s livelihood, did I?”

“I think if anything the monks would be glad someone got to see their handiwork,” Asahi said thoughtfully. “Tiny books, huh… I always wanted to open the ones I’d get but I was never brave enough. So I’d just kind of squish the cloth between my fingers and try and figure out what was inside… then I’d get worried I made the gods mad or whatever and I’d hide it behind the mirror in the bathroom—”

“The mirror – oh my god, like Amaterasu in that myth?” Noya laughed. “Where she hid in the cave – I don’t really remember… but there was a mirror, right? Somehow involved?”

“Yeah, they held it up so she’d think there was another sun goddess and come out,” Asahi said quietly, his lips still curled up in a little grin. “But no, I just thought… that’s where my parents kept medicine so if I had hurt the god or whatever it could heal itself – don’t laugh!”

Noya clamped his hands over his mouth, managing to wheeze, “You were so cute,” before he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

Asahi scoffed but looked more than a little pleased as he settled back down and waited for Noya to compose himself.

Noya let out a slow breath to calm down and then lowered his hands.

“Okay. Okay, sorry. Laugh attack – I really want to get you an omamori now just to watch you wrestle with yourself over whether or not to open it.”

“I can spoil that plotline for you right now. I wouldn’t,” Asahi deadpanned, biting his lip when Noya laughed again. His expression changed, suddenly.

“You have – ah.”

“What?” Noya asked, wiping a drop of laughter tears off his eyelashes.

“Never mind.”

“Asahi.”

“Nishinoya—”

“I’m not going to keep tossing names back and forth like we’re playing roll call tennis, Asahi.”

“Roll call –”

Asahi closed his mouth and averted his gaze before shrugging. So, so stiffly.

“…I was just thinking that you…You have a nice. Laugh.”

“Really?” Noya said in surprise. “…My mom says I sound like a mountain crone. That I cackle.”

“Yeah, it’s… it is kind of cackleish,” Asahi admitted. “But it’s very… uninhibited. Like you want everyone to laugh too… even if they’re just laughing at you for being loud – this is getting convoluted.”

“Well I don’t especially like being laughed at. I’m not a saint,” Noya said slowly, fighting back a grin. “But it’s weird – I was just thinking the same thing about you a few minutes ago. When – ah!”

He suddenly slugged Asahi in the arm, ignoring the older boy’s weak, “Nishinoya… what…”

“You dodged my question! About why you asked Ryū – and you were so dodgey I know it had to be an interesting answer,” Noya said fiercely. “So answer.”

“It’s – oh boy, it’s… really not interesting at all, I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Asahi said weakly. “It’s not even a good reason—”

Noya crossed his arms over his chest as best he could without pushing himself away from the seat. Asahi started to sweat. Noya knew the pattern. Sweat, fidget, look away, maybe tug on a lock of hair or scratch his head if he was feeling especially hounded, and then, finally, surrender.

Asahi ran his thumb along the stitching of Noya’s bag, his large, brown eyes tracking the motion.

He sighed. White flag.

“…I just wanted to spend time with you. As much – as much time as possible,” he mumbled. “We’re going back and it’s… it’s going to be weird. Since we… our understanding was reached in kind of a liminal place –”

“I don’t know what that word means.”

Asahi floundered, his grip on the bag tightening before he managed to piece together his sentence jigsaw again enough to make sense of the picture.

“It means… I-I read it in a book once. I thought it sounded neat but I think – I think it means a space that’s between two worlds, kind of,” he finally said. “Like… when we were on top of that mountain. Like there. Places that aren’t fully one thing or another but in-between. Where you feel like you’re always waiting. That nothing’s – nothing’s fixed or settled…”

Noya nodded even though he didn’t understand and gently knocked his knee against Asahi’s again in apology for interrupting. Asahi just smiled perfunctorily and then shook his head.

“You know what I mean even if you don’t get the word, right?” he said quietly. “We weren’t at home or school – we had to maneuver around our teammates I guess but there wasn’t… there weren’t things to get in the way. And when we go back, I’m…”

Asahi visibly struggled for a word and then he let out a little sigh and said glumly, “Worried.”

Noya digested that for a moment and then had to ask, “Is this in addition to your normal state of being?”

The sour look Asahi gave him made him almost take back the question, but after a bit Asahi just mumbled, “Yes,” and then said in a more normal voice, “I take it you’re not?”

“No,” Noya said slowly, giving it the weight of thought Asahi seemed to think it was worth. “It’s not like we’re different people or you’re suddenly going to reveal that you’re some kind of pirate – the modern day not-swashbuckling-at-all-and-actually-really-terrible kind – or that I’ll stop – …having an understanding.”

He fell quiet, actually thinking about it. They wouldn’t be able to sneak off at night. Asahi lived several stations away. On a completely different line than the one that ran by Noya’s house. Obviously they wouldn’t be able to talk while they were falling asleep, except via phone. Skype, maybe, but no visuals, couldn’t see anything in the dark. Wouldn’t eat breakfast together either, classes were starting up again which meant schoolwork, separate grades so no interaction there… club would still be going but they had Inter High coming up so they’d both be focused, extra long practices and Asahi always left immediately after unless Daichi kept him since he lived so far away –

Noya made a quiet noise as his stomach started to hurt. Not hurt, really, but – like it was trying to bury itself in his spine. Wanting to escape –

“…Okay I think – I think this. Actually might suck,” he said finally, coming to the conclusion when his stomach gave another lurch as his brain reminded him that Asahi had tutoring during lunch break so no time then either. Fuck – fuck was there going to be any time apart from Sundays? And not even every Sunday because he still had to hang out with Ryū and go to Suzu’s softball games and help his dad at the salon – where was Asahi going to fit into that? He hadn’t anticipated keeping up their hangout schedule this long – for whatever reason he’d thought it was going to be a temporary thing or that somehow life would just balance itself for him or Asahi would go back to hanging out with Daichi and Suga and that other kid from 3-4 Noya couldn’t remember the name of and who probably wasn’t that important anyway but now – now where was Asahi going to go?

Noya started when he felt something touch his arm. He blinked and glanced down, watching Asahi’s thumb brush against his jacket sleeve. Like he’d been doing with the stitching on the bag.

Noya swallowed heavily and glanced up at Asahi. The older boy wore a look of kind concern. Wide, brown eyes, brows furrowed in the middle.

“You need to breathe, Nishinoya,” he said gently. Firmly.

“I’m breathing – if I weren’t I’d be dead,” Noya muttered. But he let his fingers slip underneath Asahi’s wrist to where he could feel his pulse. It was slow. Like a cat’s would be, bathing in the sun. Noya didn’t know how to say that it was comforting. Maybe if he knew more words like ‘liminal’ or ‘transendal’ or – that second one probably wasn’t even a word. But maybe if he knew more of them or if Asahi could understand what it meant when he said his pulse felt like a cat in the sun there would be one of those moments. The mountain ones – the liminal ones, even though Noya still wasn’t sure what that meant. But it was probably that moment right before he’d decided to kiss Asahi. Or maybe it was the Jizō statues on the way up the mountains, the cellophane wrapper of the bread in Asahi’s hand, the white of the bandages peeking out of their box.

But Noya didn’t know words like that. He couldn’t put the concepts into vocabulary. Not the statue or the cellophane or the splinters under his feet. Or the train devouring the tracks, dragging them North again.

So instead Noya just let out a shuddering breath and said what he could say with his brain that ripped open amulets because it didn’t understand things like consequence or meaning or depth.

“I wanna spend time with you too,” he mumbled, feeling like a child confessing to some brainless dream. “As much as possible.”

Asahi sucked in a sharp breath, and for one panicked moment Noya thought that he might have fucked up even those simple words – conjugated a verb wrong or forgot a predicate. He glanced up at Asahi, ready to apologize or correct, white out whatever needed.

Asahi was smiling. So much that his chin was all wrinkly looking underneath his beard, his dry lips cracking in one vermillion hairline.

“You do?”

Asahi’s voice was muted. Like he was praying.

“Of course,” Noya said slowly, still not sure he’d said it properly. “I’m here – I like you. I wanna be around you – This shouldn’t be new or revolutionary, Asahi, I’ve wanted to be around you for like. Months now. Which is why – fu—dammit it’s going to be hard going back. You’re right.” 

He lifted his hand to scrub at his face, but a hesitant brush of fingers against his wrist made him look up again.

“Even though we’re not at camp anymore?” Asahi pressed.

“Yeah? Yeah, camp’s – camp’s liminal. Am I using that right?”

“Not quite...”

“Dammit.”

“…So even at school—”

“Yes.”

“And after practice –”

“Yes.”

“Sundays—”

“As much as possible.”

“…Really?”

“I don’t lie, Asahi, I’m terrible at it.”

It earned him a smile.

Noya leaned back and tried again.

“Even though camp’s a special place, part of me’s glad it’s done.”

“You are?” Asahi said in obvious surprise. “Why?”

“’Cause that fancy word – it’s just another way to say it’s not real, right?” Noya said, sorting through his thoughts. “Like it’s an alternate timeline or something that could be erased. A spin off episode. No don’t bother to correct me this is how I’m choosing to define it. Anyway – if it’s just a special episode or whatever, then… well what’s the point of those? They don’t contribute anything. They’re not part of the canon – if it were converted to a movie instead of a TV series they don’t even include those special episodes. So I want a real one. I want – I want to put you. In. In my kitchen or something. Somewhere that’s real that I go back to every day that’s not just school or club. I want a real episode – I want a whole series. The Asahi season or – or something less… less dumb and… more. Fancier. Like what you said.”

Noya looked up at the little LED sign that showed where the train was. Half an hour.

He felt Asahi laugh, a noise of relief, before his quiet voice said, “You’re such a geek, Nishinoya.”

“A geek – a geek? Asahi I’m the third – no, second coolest on the team! Maybe! Second is probably too high – fourth, I’m the solid fourth coolest person on the team and you dare – you sit next to me, tell me I’m a geek? In front of all these people?”

Asahi tried in vain to shush him, but the little outburst had made Hinata dart over, and true to form Kageyama slunk in after him. Soon the row was packed with their teammates, all arguing about cooless rank and if there should be separate categories for ‘suave’ or ‘sex appeal’ or ‘least moronic’ (Tsukishima’s contribution). At one point Hinata laughed so hard Pocari Sweat came shooting out of his nose and Asahi hurried away to find a towel. And probably less obnoxious company.

Noya craned his neck around the seats, watching Asahi disappear into Suga and Daichi’s row before he sat back. Oh well. There’d be time—

“Noya! Your phone’s buzzin’!”

Noya quickly plucked his phone out of Ryū’s hands, hunching over so he could read the text.

/Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I have a text drafted for Mom. Two, actually, in case you say no and I need her to console me./

Noya’s phone buzzed three more times in rapid succession.

/That was a joke. Obviously./

/’Obviously’ sorry that sounded mean. Maybe not obviously. I’m clarifying that it was a joke. I don’t think you’re stupid or bad at reading tone in textual messages. I won’t actually need consoling./

/I’ll understand completely if you say no./

Noya could hear Suga teasing Asahi about being addicted to his phone and Daichi telling the other third year to lay off before he must have socked Asahi in the hand or arm because Asahi yelped very loudly. A brief scuffle ensued, resulting in Asahi snapping, “I have three passcodes on my lock screen for this exact reason, Daichi!”

Noya waited until the third years had calmed down before quickly typing a reply, not needing to think twice.

/Sounds amazing./

\--- 

The lamps were lit by the time the local train pulled into the station near the school. Exhaustion had hit the team when they’d disembarked the bullet train, and now, lumbering down the stairs off the platform, they looked like a bunch of extras in a zombie movie. Asahi and the other third years were talking still, so all Noya did was run up to tap Asahi on the shoulder, thank him for playing hard that day, and formally say goodbye to the captain and vice-captain. Suga ruffled his hair, called him ‘slavishly devoted,’ which probably wasn’t a good thing but Noya chose to take it as a compliment. Daichi gave him a mock salute and promised to bring those shrimp buns he’d been talking about to practice tomorrow.

Asahi barely had time to smile and say a quiet ‘later’ before he was dragged off by the other two boys, up the stairs to the other platform. Noya felt Ryū’s hand tap his shoulder, his friend grinning and taking a moment to boast about killing some wicked advanced monster in his sister’s game that even she hadn’t been able to defeat. Noya clutched his chest, stricken with envy, made Ryū promise to smuggle the console into school tomorrow. Ennoshita called Ryū over –they rode the same train when it was this late and the other line had stopped running.

Noya adjusted his bag and then jogged to catch up with Hinata, who was walking by himself towards the bike racks on the other side of the station exit. Hinata was wavering on his feet he was so exhausted, and Noya fretted silently as he watched his underclassman struggle with his bike.

“I can call my parents, Shōyō, we live super close,” he tried again. The younger boy shook his head but flashed Noya a sunny grin.

“Thanks, but I, um... hm…” Hinata tugged at a lock of hair, an uncharacteristically pensive look on his face. “I think I have some stuff I need to digest. And riding my bike’s when I do most of my thinking, so…”

Noya held up his hands in defeat but then insisted, “At least let me walk with you to the start of the road. It’s dark and… y’know, kinda spooky.”

“…The trees do look really creepy at night sometimes,” Hinata said, looking around before moving closer to Noya. “Okay – but just to the road. I’m good at this, I promise! I ride in the dark every morning in winter.”

“I know you do, champ, and that’s really awesome but it’s still kinda creepy up in the mountains at night,” Noya said, walking on the other side of Hinata’s bike as the younger boy pushed it along. They crossed the street and started up a side road that wove its way towards the first swell of the mountains.

“One time –” Hinata said suddenly. “One time I thought I heard something eating bones. It was really crunchy and snappy – but when I looked I couldn’t find anything.”

“Bones?!” Noya glanced down the lit street and then up towards the mountains. “That’s a really disturbuin’ place for your mind to go.”

“I know – it’s ‘cause Yamaguchi was talking about this horror series his cousin is into – ‘Bone Crunchers’… it sounds gross,” Hinata mumbled.

Noya frowned just a bit, glancing across at the younger boy.

“You talk with Yamaguchi? Whenever I look over it seems like he and Tsukishima are always off by themselves.”

“They are!” Hinata unexpectedly burst out, making a frustrated noise. “I keep tellin’ them – telling them to socialize more but then Tsukishima just says something jerkish and Yamaguchi laughs so I have no choice but to eavesdrop on them because how else am I going to know what they’re thinking? We’re – we’re supposed to all be friends…”

“We’re supposed to all be teammates,” Noya corrected as gently as he could. “Friends is good but… not everyone gets along with each other all the time, y’know? Sometimes you can’t force personalities to mesh…”

“Yeah…” Hinata said glumly, kicking his bike’s pedal. “You and Asahi made up really well, though… Suga was saying he’s almost glad you guys fought ‘cause now you work so much better together– like you can feel each other out and know where the other one is…”

“Suga said that?! Seriously?”

Hinata blinked his large eyes and then nodded slowly, cringing away just a bit. “Sorry! Sorry, I know I shouldn’t repeat what I hear… I thought it would make you happy? To know that, um… something good came out of… of having trouble?”

“No – no it’s fine, Shōyō, I don’t care,” Noya mumbled, glad, suddenly, that it was dark so Hinata couldn’t see him being flustered and pathetic. “It’s just a little weird to hear, I guess.”

“It is?” Hinata fell awkwardly quiet for a moment and then said hesitantly, “But – isn’t that why the two of you kept going off alone at camp? To talk and… and work stuff out? Daichi said—” Hinata’s tone grew in confidence. “Daichi said that the two of you are the pillars of our team. And that he was glad you were bolstering each other up as well instead of just focusing on supporting everyone else. Because – um…” Hinata fumbled for a moment and then let out a little sigh. “Ah, man… I can’t remember what he said. Something about… flying… butters?”

“Flying buttresses?” 

“Yeah! Yeah that – how’d you know that?”

“There’s a game where you play an assassin and one of the missions is to scale this set of flying buttresses on a cathedral,” Noya explained, glad for the change in topic. “I had to look the word up but it stuck with me ‘cause it sounds so dumb.”

“Oooh…” Hinata said appreciatively, but then fell silent again. They were approaching the foot of the mountain where the road started to get twisty.

Hinata suddenly stopped in his tracks and glanced miserably up at Noya.

“Things are better now, but I wish—…I wish I could fix stuff with Kageyama as easily as you fixed stuff with Asahi.”

Noya stopped in surprise and turned to stare at the younger boy. Hinata’s shoulders were hunched and he’d averted his gaze to stare at the asphalt road as though it were about to open up and swallow him.

“Shōyō – ah, geez…”

Noya rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head to look up at the mountains. What to give away. What to keep.

“It wasn’t easy,” he finally said, when Hinata continued to stand there, trembling like a sad bunny. “I’ll just put that out there. It was really – it. Sucked. For a solid chunk of time, it really sucked. I didn’t talk to anyone – I didn’t even see my best friend for like a month, I was so… upset, I guess. Ashamed, maybe, is the emotion I probably should’ve felt but… I have trouble with that one.”

“But now you guys are so close,” Hinata mumbled, and Noya felt his heart sink when he saw the younger boy’s lip trembling slightly. “You’re friends with everyone on the team and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi won’t even talk to us and Kageyama – I still get so frustrated with him sometimes! How can an actual, living human being be so – so dense?! He’s mean but then he’s like ‘what no I’m not’ and you can tell he actually doesn’t think he is he’s so dumb!”

“Hey – hey, calm down,” Noya said as quickly as he could, not wanting Hinata to have a complete meltdown right before his long bike ride. The kid was probably just exhausted. The intensity of the week catching up to him. “I’m not friends with everyone – case in point Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. I’ve probably exchanged five words with them at this point—”

“But you still like them, right?” Hinata insisted, lifting his head to meet Noya’s gaze. “And they like you – everyone respects you so much. You’re a genius – even Kageyama said so…”

“Oh god – no, I’m – I’m good, I work hard… I’ve been doin’ this a long time… there’s no ‘genius’ involved,” Noya said awkwardly, brushing aside the praise he normally would loved to have quietly held onto. 

“Well I think there is,” Hinata mumbled. “Maybe not just in volleyball but – you always know how to act and… and how polite to be… I heard the Nekoma coach talking about you and— and the ace looks up to you so much…” 

Noya gently ushered Hinata off to the side of the road to let a car pass. He leaned against a tree, watching the taillights disappear up the curvy road.

“Asahi looks up to you too, you know,” he said encouragingly. “Everyone on the team does.”

“Tsukishima doesn’t. So Yamaguchi doesn’t either,” Hinata mumbled. “Why do I want them to like me so much?! It’s so annoying!”

“But it’s totally normal – who the hell doesn’t wanna be liked by everyone?” Noya said, turning to face Hinata. “But Asahi at least does. I promise. I know it for a fact.”

Even in the dark Noya could see Hinata blushing. The younger boy shyly fiddled with the handlebars of his bike.

“…Did he say so? That… he likes me?”

“About five thousand times – I had to shut him up, finally,” Noya said enthusiastically, leaving out his method of shutting up Asahi.

“Five thousand?” Hinata squeaked, suddenly looking overwhelmed. “But – he’s so cool, and… well he was really nice when he talked to me after that one practice match… but I’m probably just a little… springy kid to him. I can’t do Olympic stuff like he can. Or like you can or… I wish I could be that… neat looking on the court…”

Noya watched the younger boy fold in on himself. Weird how much difference just a year apart could make. Hinata seemed so young to him.

Fuck, what if this is what Asahi felt when talking to him about serious stuff.

Gross.

Noya shook his head and refocused.

“Shōyō, do you have any siblings?”

“Siblings? Oh…” Hinata scrubbed at his face, his shoulders slumping again. “Yeah – my younger sister…”

“So you’re the older kid, huh.” Noya grinned and reached out to lightly flick Hinata’s forehead. “Me too. It’s pretty cool bein’ an older brother, isn’t it?”

“…Sometimes,” Hinata mumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Sometimes she’s… she’s really annoying though. And loud. And steals my stuff – she played ‘pirate’ for like a year where she kept taking everyone’s stuff and hoarding it in secret places around the house like under the veranda who would ever look there?!”

“But you still like her, right?”

Hinata looked very much like he wanted to say no, but finally he just nodded and mumbled, “Yeah. She’s a cute kid. I guess…”

“I bet, though, that to her? You’re the coolest guy she knows. You can probably jump clear over her, right?”

Hinata shuffled his feet and then mumbled, “…Mom told me I’m not allowed to do that anymore.”

“What?! Really?”

Noya burst out laughing at the look of chagrin on Hinata’s face.

“See – Shōyō, I can’t fuckin’ do that! I can’t jump over a person unless they were maybe two feet tall. A toddler – I could handle a toddler, maybe, but I’d break them trying to vault over.”

“But no one cares that I can jump over my little sister—”

“I care – I think that’s cool as hell,” Noya insisted. “And I can promise that even if Tsukishima and Yamaguchi don’t say it aloud, both of them are inwardly like, ‘damn how is that little guy so cool?! How can he do that, I can’t do that…’ and they’re probably worryin’ about the exact same things you are. And they probably do like that part of you, or at least admire it.”

“But not you, right?”

Noya blinked in surprised.

“What – Shōyō, I like you a lot,” he said slowly. “Me and Asahi both do—”

“No – no I mean you don’t worry about stuff like people not liking you, do you?” Hinata said, his tone slightly accusing. “You… you’re the kind of person who just… makes people like you if they don’t. Which is stupid ‘cause… who wouldn’t like you…”

Noya fell silent, watching as another car began its slow crawl up the mountain face.

“For a while… I didn’t think Asahi did. For starters,” Noya finally said. “Ryū and I hated each other at first. There’s some kids from junior high… pretty sure they weren’t fond of me.”

“That just sounds like you’re lying,” Hinata mumbled. “You and Tanaka are close, too…”

“Yeah we are – ‘cause our old upperclassmen made us work together for so long we stopped gettin’ on each other’s nerves,” Noya said with a little shrug.

“…And the guys from junior high – you… you kind of sound like you don’t… care,” Hinata ventured.

“’Cause I don’t. I don’t play with them anymore, I never see them… I’ve got other people in my life now I want to like me and I want to keep likin’ more. So I’m gonna work on those people instead.” Noya grinned and reached out to ruffle Hinata’s hair. “Like you.”

Hinata stammered something unintelligible before he finally let out a loud sigh and slumped down over the handlebars of his bike.

“You must be an awesome big brother… I can’t say stuff that’s that nice when Natsu’s throwing a fit…”

“You weren’t throwin’ a fit, you just want people to like you,” Noya said encouragingly. “Totally reasonable thing to worry about. And I’ve got an extra year of practice on you. I bet this time next year you’ll be just as good at the upperclassman pep talk as me.”

“Next year…”

Hinata’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“I’ll be a second year!”

“…Yeah that’s – generally how it goes!”

“And we’ll have underclassmen!”

“Right?! Even more of them – although your bunch was pretty damn cute so it’d be hard to top.”

Hinata made a face and then muttered, “Tsukishima isn’t cute.”

Noya shrugged and made a little ‘eh’ noise before falling silent. Next year. Assuming he passed – which would be a big assumption – he’d be a third year. And stuff would really, really start to be diff—

“…-nk you, Noya.”

“Huh?”

Hinata looked amused.

“I said thank you. For… for being so nice and patient.” He glanced around at the woods. “And keeping me safe too. I guess.”

“Ah – yeah not a problem,” Noya said with a grin. “You good from here on out?”

“Yeah, I think so…” 

Hinata straightened up tall and caught Noya’s eyes before saying firmly, “And I’m going to try and be more like you.”

“Like me?” Noya said, feeling a puff of pride color his voice. Dammit. “In what way?”

“Not worry so much about other people – focusing on what I can do and… and um…” Hinata shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “And being a good… a good older brother to the other first years. I’m the oldest after all, so… so I should. Try harder to be… nicer. And not care that they can all be jerks sometimes.”

“I think it’s okay to care if they’re jerks,” Noya said, ignoring the rising heat scorching his cheeks. “But I’m always a fan of not worryin’. Just lemme know if you need any more sage advice! I’ll be happy to dispense it.”

Hinata gave an enthusiastic nod and then climbed up on his bike.

“Thanks, Noya! I’ll be careful on my ride home, too.”

“You’d better be. We can’t have one of our star middle blockers getting hurt,” Noya said firmly.

Hinata just made an embarrassed squawking sound before pedaling off, calling out, “See you tomorrow at practice!”

Noya waved back even though Hinata couldn’t see him and waited until the younger boy’s bike had disappeared into the forest before he turned around and headed for home.

The gate was open, door unlocked. The house was quiet. A bowl of rice and plate of salt-grilled fish bought from the supermarket, still wrapped, on the kitchen table. Noya dumped his stuff in his room and showered as quietly as he could before taking the food into his room to eat in front of his computer. He quickly answered a few messages from Ryū – all updates on that game he was playing – before he noticed another IM. Asahi.

He quickly clicked on it, embarrassed at his own eagerness even though the only other one around was his grandfather’s portrait in the other room.

Shit.

He scurried over to the fusuma and shut them before heading back to his computer. He wasn’t really ready to have that talk with his dead relatives yet. They probably already knew but it would be his first time voicing it to anyone. If a picture could be called an anyone of anything.

He settled down again and read the messages, his chopsticks dangling from his mouth.

/suga said he saw you walking towards the mountains with hinata did you walk him all the way home? i know even you’re probably not that altruistic but please remember there are boars and hinata has a bike and you just have legs and boars probably like legs more than bikes/

/I regret sending that without reading it over first but please please IM or call me when you get back though just for peace of mind we don’t have to talk long or anything/

Noya shoveled a hunk of cold rice in his mouth and then quickly typed back, /i'm safe, no boars, eating dinner hard to type with one hand i'll skype you in five okay/

He hit enter, and then burst out laughing when Asahi’s status changed from red busy to green available in a heartbeat. The little pencil in the box started to scribble back and forth and then a new message popped into the box.

/Do you have superhuman speed secretly or did you only walk him part way or what. Also thanks for indulging me it means a lot./

/both. and you’re welcome. in retrospect it was kind of dumb of me to offer to walk all the way across the mountain range but i do worry so about our spaciest new recruit./

/Spaciest? That's kind of a stretch. Yamaguchi seems to always be staring off into the distance./

/yamaguchi seems like the kind of guy who’s secretly thinking deep thoughts. also give me a minute to finish eating please i really can’t type and eat at the same time./

/oh right sorry brb/

Asahi’s status went instantly to away.

Noya snorted , murmuring, “Predictable,” under his breath. But he quickly finished what was left of his meal before darting to the kitchen and washing his dishes as fast as possible. He knew Asahi was probably fretting. Beating himself up for bothering him, maybe. Or for worrying at all. There were a thousand and one self-deprecation scenarios he could be indulging in.

Noya shoved his dishes in the drying rack and then sat down in front of his computer again.

/i'm done, thank you for waiting/

Asahi’s status was green again immediately.

/It's fine. Sorry for monopolizing your time./

Noya rolled his eyes just a bit.

/five minutes is hardly monopolizing./

Asahi’s little pencil died a thousand deaths before a message finally came through.

/It’s really hard to read your tone over the internet. Are you mad?/

/no. i am really tired and going to head to bed soon, though./

/Oh right. You sleep really early usually. Sorry for keeping you up./

Noya sighed and quickly typed back, /i’m going to start making you buy me an ice pop every time you say sorry unnecessarily./

Asahi’s box fell silent for a very long time before his message finally popped up.

/I wrote and deleted sorry about twenty times. I hope you realize the level of commitment I have sworn myself to here. Said in a nervous, joking tone./

Noya actually laughed at that, propping his elbow up on the table.

/yes i know the one. so did you—

“Yū?”

Noya glanced over his shoulder. Taka was standing in the doorway, scrubbing at his face. He smiled, tired, happy. His toes poked at the edge of the tatami, wanting in.

Noya patted the spot next to him, and in a flash Taka was padding across the floor and plunking down next to him.

“You’re back,” he mumbled, resting his head against Noya’s arm.

“Yeah, kiddo, I’m back,” Noya said, absently patting his brother’s hair. “Why’re you up?”

“Heard noise. I though… maybe the lizard I caught got loose…”

“You caught a lizard? Oh man, what other adventures did you and Suz’ get yourselves into while I was gone?” Noya teased, quickly hitting enter on whatever message he’d typed. Asahi would get the gist. Maybe. He couldn’t remember what it said.

Taka nodded sleepily, and said a very grave, “Lots,” before he leaned forward to peer at the screen. “Who’re you talking to? Did Ryūnosuke change his name – his computer name?”

“Nah, this isn’t Ryū. It’s another friend,” Noya explained, glancing at the screen again. Asahi had responded with a very timid, /Did I what?/

“Another friend?”

“Yeah,” Noya said absently, typing back, /did you ask your mother about dinner, i thought that’s why you might’ve been messaging me. also my little brother’s here./

He hit enter and then grinned down at Taka.

“His name’s Asahi. You wanna say hi?”

Taka’s eyes widened. He stared nervously at the screen.

“Won’t your friend get mad? He wants to talk to you, after all. Is he a volleyball friend?”

“He’s a volleyball and Sunday hangouts friend,” Noya said, lightly tickling Taka’s sides to get him to squirm. “And nah, no way! Asahi doesn’t get mad at kids. Go on, say hi! He said hello to you already.”

He pointed to the screen where indeed Asahi’s message bubble said, /We can talk about it later. Tell your brother I say hi. Is that a normal thing? How old is he again?/

Taka frowned but moved to sit on Noya’s knee instead. He began typing, mumbling as he did so, “It is nice to meet you, Mr. Asahi. I am Taka and I am seven…”

He glanced over his shoulder at Noya, seeking approval.

“I told him I’m seven – is this the right character for his name?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

“Nah, he uses the other one – here.” Noya tapped the spacebar a few times to get the right one and then sent it off. He ruffled Taka’s hair. “And you should get to bed. It’s super late and you have school tomorrow.”

“You have school tomorrow, too,” Taka mumbled, lightly batting Noya’s hand away. A move he’d learned from Suzu. “I want to see what he says back.”

“It might take him a while to reply,” Noya cautioned. “Asahi’s –”

The computer dinged.

“Very punctual tonight.”

/Hello, Taka. It is nice to meet you, too. I am Asahi and I am seventeen./

“Oh my god,” Noya muttered, his cheeks coloring. What a dork. 

Taka leaned forward so he could read the screen – kid probably needed glasses but was resistant to the idea because of teasing – and then sat back. He nodded once and then typed back a reply.

/You are more easy to talk to than Yū’s other friends. I have to go to bed, now. It is late. You should go to bed, too./

Noya bit his lip as he read the message and then lightly pinched Taka’s cheek.

“You think Ryū’s hard to talk to?”

“He’s a very loud person,” Taka said gravely, leaning back against Noya’s chest, his eyes slipping shut. “I don’t mind. Suzu needs… someone to be loud with since I yell at her… when she’s… loud…”

The computer chimed softly.

/I promise I will as soon as I’m done talking to your brother. Do you mind giving him the keyboard again?/

Noya carefully shifted atop the cushion so he could type, not wanting to disturb Taka who was listing dangerously.

/hey, it’s me. he’s about to fall asleep. i'm going to haul him upstairs and then i'll be back./

/Oh thank god. Your brother’s so formal. Is he... What’s a nice word for ‘normal’?/

/he’s a little nerd, yes, but normal enough. you'll meet him at some point i’m sure. brb./

/Okay. Don’t hurt yourself./

/ukno i t/

Noya quickly hit enter with his free hand and hoisted Taka up into his arms. Which were already shaking.

“Yeah – fuck, seven is too old for this,” he muttered, heading to the stairs. Taka just mumbled in response, wrapping his arms around Noya’s neck. The night light was still on in Taka’s room, so Noya was able to carefully pick his way around all the little experiments and toys strewn across his brother’s floor. He carefully set Taka down and then beat a hasty retreat, closing the door behind him. He almost never went on the second floor except to watch TV in the study with his siblings. It was weird. Almost felt like he was intruding now, even though it was his own house.

He grabbed his toothbrush on the way back to his room and made sure to slide the door shut behind him. Asahi must have restrained himself – no new messages.

Noya shoved the toothbrush in his mouth and typed one handed, /i'm back/

/Hey. I’m brushing my teeth so sorry if I’m slow./

/me too!! we’re brush buddies./

/I can’t believe you had the gall to refer to your brother as a nerd when clearly it’s a genetic affliction./

Noya snorted with laughter, immediately wincing when toothpaste went up his nostrils.

/you flip the switch from contrite to smarmy so fast. so what did your mother say?/

/It’s my own genetic affliction. And she said yes, although she cautioned me that she’s not used to cooking for more than two so we might have to help out if we’re not exhausted from practice. I told her that was fine. I hope you don’t care?/

/no, i like learning how to be self-sufficient and how to not poison myself accidentally./

/Good skills to have. We can catch the train after practice. But/

Noya continued brushing his teeth, watching the pencil do its skittery dance.

/But I’d appreciate it if we could not let Daichi and Suga on? To you coming over, I mean. I don’t care if Tanaka knows but they’ve only been to my house once and it was kind of a disaster and I know they’d tease me./

/only once? okay i won’t tell but i'm not comfortable with lying about it either./

/I doubt they’ll ask directly. Daichi’s kind of freaking out about a major quiz we have coming up anyway. And Suga’s too busy alternating between promising him it’s going to be okay and tormenting him subtly with his superior knowledge. They’re preoccupied. Is what I’m trying to say./

/and you’re not worried?/

/Not especially. I’m not taking any entrance exams so the bar is almost pathetically low for me. I’ve been keeping up, just have to refresh the night before./

/that’s really amazing./

/I know. They expect next to nothing out of us. Sometimes it’s a bit disheartening, to be honest./

/no, i meant that you can keep up even with all the extra practices we’ve been having./

Asahi’s pencil did an unsure wiggle before the message came through.

/Can you switch to phone and call? I’m shutting off my computer./

/sure thing, just give me a second to un-foam my mouth./

/Okay. Brb./

Asahi’s icon faded.

Noya quickly headed to the bathroom and spat out his toothpaste. He flicked the lights off in the kitchen as he passed, and once inside his room immediately shut down his computer and picked up his phone, settling into bed. Asahi’s icon was bright again. Probably waiting for him.

Noya clicked it and lay down, the phone on the pillow next to him. The dialing noise stopped after three rings.

“Hey. Un-foamed?”

“I thought ‘spit’ sounded too undignified,” Noya said quietly, closing his eyes and grinning when he heard Asahi laugh.

“I can’t believe you would be worried about something like dignity.”

“I don’t worry about it, but… you know, I don’t… want to be un… un-cool. In front of you,” Noya mumbled, quickly adding, “Or anyone really. Except maybe Ryū but that’s just because he acts ridiculous enough for an army.”

“He does,” Asahi said quietly. “But that’s probably why you make such good friends.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Noya tugged the pillow a bit closer, his hand resting next to the phone. “Sorry if I fall asleep. I’m exhausted.”

“It’s fine. I am too,” Asahi said quickly, the speaker crackling a bit with the force of his voice.

“…You don’t sound very tired.”

“Well I’m – I am, but… I’m not really ready to go to sleep yet. You can, though. Of course. I don’t care.”

“Oh… okay.”

Noya rolled over onto his stomach, tugging the covers up. Chilly.

“Did you have something you wanted – wanted to talk about?” he asked, his words punctuated by a yawn.

“…No, not especially,” Asahi said. Noya heard the sound of fabric rustling. “I’m… just a bit nostalgic already, I guess.”

“Nostalgic?”

The phone fell silent, and for a moment Noya thought he was going to have to pry his eyes open and actually look to see if Asahi had hung up.

“That’s not exactly the right word, I think,” Asahi finally said, his voice soft. “But it’s all I feel like saying right now. For a number of reasons.”

Noya frowned and buried his face in his pillow, not really understanding and too tired to piece it together.

“You can feel nostalgic,” he mumbled. “Or anything. You’re allowed – to speak. Feel. Anything – ‘s… ‘cause… I’m. I’m your—”

Even in the dim haze of half-sleep, Noya stopped himself. It would have felt weird to say it. Outside of those rooms at the lodging house. Weird to say without contact, affirmation. Reaffirmation. 

Weird saying it to a phone.

Noya pressed his face more into the pillow, wondering if this was what Asahi had meant by nostalgic.

“…Nishinoya? Are you asleep?”

For a guilt-ridden moment Noya almost stayed quiet. He finally rolled to his side and said, “No. Close.”

To his relief Asahi just laughed and said, “I’ll let you go. You’re clearly no longer at a stage fit for human interaction.”

“You keep using… confusing phrasing and words. My brain’s too small and tired for them,” Noya mumbled, hugging his pillow against his chest. He reached his hand out to rest on the tatami. It smelled like grass. New, no splinters.

His fingers twitched, very slightly.

New, no splinters. Empty.

Noya closed his eyes again, cloudy bricks resting one by one on his brain and tongue. 

“Think m’ fingers miss yours,” he heard himself mumble, but if Asahi said anything in reply, he couldn’t tell. Too many bricks in his head.


	11. Chapter 11

Suzu woke up before him. Which was a rotten miracle and ensured that Noya was almost definitely truly late to practice. She kept asking questions about the trip – her first school overnight field trip was coming up, she was nervous, was it actually fun or was everyone just lying to her (she suspected the latter). Noya barely had time to swallow a few bites of breakfast before he was out the door, his father calling out a sleepy, ‘glad you’re alive’ after him.

Noya was still trying to cool off his burnt tongue when practice started. Scalded it on the miso soup Taka had graciously warmed up for him. To absolutely blistering temperatures that shouldn’t have been achievable in such a short amount of time.

Practice was grueling. Asahi exchanged exactly ten words with him. They were, “Good morning, Nishinoya,” and “Please cut off my legs they’re dying.”

Hinata puked. Which made Yamaguchi puke and triggered a whole conversation about puking trains that lasted until Ukai yelled at them to stop being gross, stop puking, and start running again. Maybe just a little less intensely.

At the end of practice, Noya’s legs were shaking so badly he had difficulty walking up the stairs to his classroom. He gingerly sat down in his desk and pushed up the sleeves of his uniform as best he could. The fabric against his bruise-flecked forearms was painful.

He was concentrating so incredibly hard on healing his wounds in time for afternoon practice that he completely zoned out on every class except literature, where he was asked to read a passage, had no idea what a few characters were supposed to be, guessed, guessed wrong, gave the teacher a migraine and was told to sit down.

Noya slowly lowered himself into his seat, tugging his book closer. The class stopped murmuring just in time for him to hear Tachima whisper to Takagi, “What’d we bet, two sentences?”

Noya stared at the four characters on the page, his cheeks stinging from a dark, angry blush. Different from the ones he hid behind his bag before yelling at Shōyō or Ryū or Asahi or Suga or Taka or Suzu or whomever was responsible. This burn just hurt; scalded the back of his throat when he tried to swallow. Worse than the soup, somehow.

For a bitter moment he hated school. Called it torture in his head, almost called it pointless before he stopped himself and stomped on the embers of the word until they were merely smoking. 

The sting didn’t go away until Ryū stopped by at lunch break, though. Ryū offered him half his bread and called him about a thousand nicknames in a row in increasingly saccharine tones until Noya finally punched him and told him to cut it out. He shoved the rest of his chicken into Ryū’s bento, needing to tip the karmic scale again. Ryū serenaded the chicken before ripping into it. It helped.

Second practice went better. Noya focused on the characters he’d drawn on the back of his hand with a marker, borrowed from Tachima’s bag. Reminders were good. They helped avoid future mistakes. He repeated the characters to himself with every receive, and by the end of practice he didn’t need the markings anymore. He knew them and wouldn’t forget. Which was good because sweat and rigorous floor sliding had made them smudged and illegible. 

Ryū asked what they were. Noya said ‘jocose and lugubrious.’ Ryū said ‘all right then’ and patted him on the head and offered him a towel.

The moment Daichi and Suga were out the door Asahi appeared. Like sweaty mold on a toilet. Or something nicer.

Noya sprayed some air freshener in his bag, gagging at the smell.

Nicer wasn’t really on the agenda for now.

Like mushrooms. That was as good as he was going to get.

He tugged on Asahi’s bag to get him to follow him and Ryū out of the gym and towards Ryū’s station. It was the wrong one for Asahi’s line but not too far out of the way. 

Ryū was oddly subdued. Not jocose or lugubrious at all. Kind of smudged, maybe. Enough that Asahi leaned down and whispered, “Is Tanaka all right?” and Noya got impatient and prodded his friend in the shoulder and demanded, “Are you all right?”

“Geez – what the actual hell, Noya, you punch too hard,” Ryū muttered, rubbing his shoulder. “How can you even reach that high.”

“You’ll see me reach a little higher in a sec here,” Noya muttered, but he eyed Ryū warily before quickly turning to Asahi.

“Hey, you mind buying me an ice pop? I’ll meet you at your station.”

“An ice – for the train?” Asahi asked in surprise before he quickly balked at the look on Noya’s face. “Okay! Yes – yes I’ll go… I’ll go do that.” He turned to leave but then quickly jerked back around and said awkwardly, “See you tomorrow, Tanaka.”

Ryū raised an eyebrow but he grinned and nodded all the same.

“See you, Asahi. Make sure this guy behaves himself on your date.”

The air temperature immediately plummeted a good thirty degrees. Asahi froze solid. His arm hairs didn’t so much as twitch in the light breeze. The only sign of life was a strange humming noise emanating from his throat. It was quickly strangled.

Noya wasn’t doing much better himself, the single word shackling any thought process his overworked brain cells might have managed to cobble together. But before he could kick Ryū in the shins Asahi suddenly stammered, “Y-Yes I promise goodbye,” and then awkwardly jog-walked his way down the street.

Ryū watched him go, clucking his tongue in disapproval.

“Where you’ve chosen to pin your affections, Mr. Nishinoya, I never.”

“You know he’s not like that most of the time,” Noya said, running his fingers through his hair to try and get blood flowing to his brain again. “You caught him off guard. Me too, honestly. It’s – I mean it’s not a date. It’s just seein’ his house! And meetin’ his mom or – it’s tier two friend stuff, that’s all.”

“I’m sure it is – ah shit my train’s gonna be here in a minute.” Ryū tossed him a rakish salute. “See you around, Noya, dear. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Huh? Oh – yeah, definitely won’t be,” Noya said to the air. Ryū was already a good six meters away. He watched his friend bolt up the stairs before he reluctantly made his way back down the road. 

Date. God.

Noya snorted and quickly texted Ryū, /you’re hilarious, by the way, as always. say hi to sis for me and don’t let your dad make you work front of the house tonight. take a proper bath and eat those special edition potato chips you’ve been hoarding, they’re going to go bad soon. and thanks for not mocking me too severely, it’s helping AND YOU HAD BETTER NOT SKIMP ON THE SPECIAL EDITION POTATO CHIP FLAVOR DESCRIPTION i expect fucking paragraphs of critique to follow./

It wasn’t a date.

You didn’t go on a date to someone’s house. Not unless you were older and they invited you up for coffee at hours of the night that didn’t make sense. He’d eavesdropped on enough of his mom and dad’s favorite dramas to know that.

Noya balled the word up and tossed it out of his head. Mentioning it again would just make Asahi a human popsicle again. Not worth it.

Asahi was waiting in front of the ticket barrier. He had his wallet in one hand, a wrapped ice pop in the other. He looked relieved when he spotted Noya and shuffled forward the last few feet to meet him.

“Here you go.”

He handed Noya the popsicle, cautioning, “I already bought your ticket – although it might be a little damp now…”

Noya took the ice pop, his stomach jumping like he’d just dumped a handful of water in hot oil. Sort of felt like that, too.

“Oh – you didn’t really have to – I just wanted to talk to Ryū for a second,” he said haltingly, peeling the ticket off of the ice pop wrapper. “And you didn’t have to buy me this either but.” He wiggled the ticket, laughing as it flopped around pathetically. “Thank you. Hope it works.”

“It will. It’s a short, independent line so… no one ever has refillable passes for it except us,” Asahi explained quickly, turning around to tap his wallet against the barrier. It slid open and he started up the stairs, shoulders hunched and pace screaming ‘I’m being chased by a bear called awkward emotions.’

Noya glanced again at the sodden ticket and opted to walk over to the station attendant’s box and just show him. Or her, as it turned out.

She smiled and waved him through before turning back to her TV. Soccer game was on.

Noya jogged up the stairs after Asahi, catching up with him on the platform. He looked around the small station as he unwrapped his ice pop.

“Small,” he observed, biting off the top.

“Yeah, it’s – holy – Nishinoya how can you eat those like that?” Asahi said in horror, his hand flying up to his mouth. He grimaced and rubbed his thumb against his teeth, muttering, “Hurts just looking at you.”

“I’ve built up a resistance over the years. Like those guys that train with venomous snakes,” Noya informed him, gnawing the other half into a sugary mush before tossing the stick in a nearby garbage can.

Asahi shuddered again, just as the automated voice chimed over the intercom, //The train is approaching. Please step back behind the yellow line.//

Noya leaned forward, peering down the tracks at the oncoming train. It was maroon. Looked extra maroon in the low angle sunlight. All the JR trains in the area were boring white or silver, sometimes green. Never maroon.

There was strange pressure against his neck, and when he went to adjust his collar he felt Asahi’s finger hooked around the fabric, keeping him back. Noya straightened up and stared at Asahi, not saying anything, just watching his face slowly turn pink.

When the doors slid open he finally grinned and gently pushed the other boy forward, his fingers tingling at the bit of contact.

“Don’t you like watching the trains approach? They look so weird from the front!”

“No, I like being safe and following the nice lady’s prudent requests,” Asahi mumbled, sliding between two strollers to stand against the far wall. Noya managed to squeeze in as well just as the doors slid shut and the train started pulling its way along the tracks. He grabbed onto the vertical bar and looked around silently, taking in everything while the wheels squeaked and clattered in conversation. The train was reasonably packed – standing room only, but the air breathable even in the spring heat. The windows above the plush green seats were open; the walls were designed to look like wood panels. It felt like a forest. A densely populated one.

Someone pressed up against him from behind as they rounded a corner, forcing his chest against Asahi’s side. He let it stay there, the warmth seeping through the thick fabric of his jersey. It was just crowded enough to be innocent. Their jerseys said sports, their faces said exhaustion. Could be that, too. Could be a lot of things that would make people’s eyes glaze over with indifference if they looked in their direction.

Noya closed his eyes, his forehead resting just underneath Asahi’s armpit. Every time the train moved his hair would catch slightly in the fabric of his sleeve.

“How long?”

“Thirty five minutes.”

Asahi’s ribs tickled his forehead when he talked.

Noya hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Long. Ish.”

“I usually study.”

“You can study now.”

Asahi’s weight shifted. Right foot left. Forward as they rounded another curve.

“Skipping one day won’t kill me.”

The train jerked a bit harder around the next curve. Asahi grunted in surprise, his elbow slamming down and crushing Noya’s head. Noya winced and headbutted Asahi the moment he was released, the older boy stammering a weak, “S-Sorry, Nishinoya…”

“Apology accepted. Appropriate usage,” Noya grumbled, settling down again. He turned his head slightly to look out the window. Fields. Flat, dry. In summer they’d be mirrors. Now they weren’t much of anything except waiting earth. The train was approaching the mountains. The far ones, taller than Hinata’s bone crunchers. They were orange and red; thick canopies a dense mass of sunset.

Noya wiggled his toes as he felt a light pressure against his foot, wresting his attention away from the scenery outside. He glanced down to see the toe of Asahi’s trainer lightly pressing against his. When he rubbed his forehead against Asahi’s ribs in silent question, Asahi only mumbled, “Anchoring,” before falling silent again. Noya accepted it, closed his eyes.

When he opened them half the train was empty. The sun was lower in the sky, and Asahi was reading a book, somehow. His large fingers were holding it open, the spine cradled in his palm. He was still holding onto the handrail, the tall one. Noya peered around Asahi’s barrel chest, reading until he felt sick. He closed his eyes again, mumbling, “You’re amazing,” because it was, not everyone could read on a shaky train without guts coloring the walls.

“It’s just a light novel,” Asahi said quietly, confused.

“You’re not throwing up.”

“Oh – ah.”

The book closed, slid itself back into Asahi’s bag. He lightly nudged Noya’s head with his chest.

“We’re here.”

Noya stood up straight, peering out the window before he let Asahi gently guide him towards the doors. They slid open to reveal a nondescript platform, save for the paintings of flowers along the far wall. “Sanbo Junior High School” was spelled out with some of the petals. 

The train clunked away and the other disembarked passengers straggled down the stairwell, mostly exhausted-looking businessmen and women in suits and a few junior-high aged kids. Noya tugged on Asahi’s sleeve, pointing at the mural as they walked towards the stairs.

“Did you help with that at all?”

“With – oh, the flowers?” Asahi shook his head. “I didn’t go there. Jun did, though. My oldest brother in case you couldn’t remember. Unfortunately they did that after he left though, so… no teasing fodder.”

“Oh right – you’re the youngest. I forget that all the time,” Noya said, hopping down the stairs. He showed his ticket to the attendant and was waved through the barrier. “So will your brothers be there too? No, right?”

Asahi shook his head, meeting Noya on the other side of the ticket barrier and gesturing for him to follow. 

“Jun works in Tokyo with my dad. And Takeshi only comes up for New Years. He’s still working on Mount Tateyama, in Toyama.”

“The mountain guy,” Noya said, happy he remembered that at least. Asahi nodded and smiled before falling silent again. Noya jogged a few steps ahead to catch up, the scenery distracting him. They were a good ways up the side of the mountain. Roads had been carved into its side. Most of them were lined with cracked bricks, the street lamps were blue with aged metal, twisted at the tops into flowering vines. Asahi must have caught him looking, because he said apologetically, “Everything’s kind of falling apart, I know. They keep trying to raise money to fix up the historic district but… it’s slow going…”

“No, I like it!” Noya insisted, running up to inspect a manhole cover. It had a pretty design on it of a giant bee surrounded by tiny flowers. He pointed to it and glanced up at Asahi.

“Why’s it a bee?”

“Uh… tourism?” Asahi said slowly, his cheeks pinking again. “I really don’t know – ah, hang on, phone’s ringing.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and then pressed it to his ear, talking softly to whoever was on the other end. Noya hopped back up and jogged over to inspect one of the lampposts, flecking away a bit of the rust with his fingernail. He heard Asahi say, “We’ll be there in just a few,” and turned to glance at him.

“Your mother?” he guessed.

Asahi nodded and continued walking down the road, at a crisper pace.

“She wants us to stop by Limon and pick up some bread – the local bakery just before the slope,” Asahi explained, turning down a side street. Noya had to double time it to keep up – he kept stopping and peering down all the little alleyways tucked in between the tall, whitewashed buildings. Every shop, every restaurant had a wooden sign dangling above the doorway. No words, save for a few smatterings of English letters here and there. At the far end of the row of shops the road suddenly shot up at an impossible angle, the trees lining the sides clinging precariously to the exhausted bricks.

Asahi stopped just before the ascent began, ducking into one of the smaller white buildings. Its sign was a giant L in front of two, crisscrossed baguettes. Noya followed after the older boy, moving immediately to inspect the pastry-lined wooden shelves that hung on the walls. The smell of yeast and vanilla and some sort of flower smarter people probably would have been able to name clung to everything.

Asahi moved through the store, a man on a very clear mission, grabbing specific pastries and setting them gently on a tray before moving to the counter. Noya trailed after him, reading the names of things. Or trying to. They were all in French. Or something he assumed was French. Might be Italian. 

He gave up trying and joined Asahi at the counter, resting subtly against him. Asahi didn’t seem to notice, too intent on comparing what was on the tray to a list on his phone. The middle-aged woman behind the register chatted at him as she placed each pastry in clear, cellophane bags with yellow lemons polka-dotted across their surfaces. Her hair was piled into a massive frizz nest on top of her head. There were a few pencils stuck into it, and her red glasses perched in front of the hair pile made her look like she was being controlled by a hair-face. Asahi was nodding, not saying anything, but the woman didn’t look insulted. She was probably used to it. And when she handed him the bag and said happily, “Say hello to Emi for me,” Noya understood. Small town.

The woman spared him a glance, but when she noticed the Karasuno logo on his jersey she made a little ‘ah’ sound and smiled at him. Noya returned the gesture and turned to go, but the woman said quickly, “Asahi, you get your butt back here. I didn’t know you were having a friend over – and he’s so little! How can you have bought so few things?”

Asahi let out a breath but obediently returned to the counter, his ears red. 

“I’m just following my mom’s orders. You know how she is,” he mumbled. The woman clucked softly and disappeared into the back. Noya waited until she was gone and then glanced up at Asahi.

“So what percentage of this place is a movie set? Eighty? Seventy five?”

“Oh to be so lucky,” Asahi muttered, his fingers shredding the top of the white paper bag. “It’s a small place and my family – everyone knows us since we’ve been here so long. My family as a whole, I mean…”

“Huh… I’m pretty sure my family was just peasants until like. Seventy years ago,” Noya said thoughtfully, hoisting himself up on the counter a bit to try and peer around the back. “Where’d she go—oh.”

He quickly moved away from the counter as the woman returned, glasses properly on her face this time. She held another white paper bag out towards Noya, smiling.

“Here, take this with you. Emi’s a bit… absent-minded in terms of portion size. She thinks everyone’s as dainty as her little boy.”

“Thank you very much!” Noya said politely, injecting enthusiasm into his voice to cover up the fact that he was a hair away from losing control over his laughter impulse. The woman waved her fingers goodbye as Asahi all but bolted from the store, Noya on his heels.

The moment they were out in the street Noya ripped the bag open and peered inside. There were about five different kinds of bread stuffed in there. Cheese bread, a hot dog thing, something that looked like it had barbeque pork spilling out of its insides.

“This looks like enough bread for two dainty boys.”

“Nishinoya. Please never use that word again.”

Noya laughed and grabbed the other bag of bread out of Asahi’s hand, ignoring his protest of, “I can carry bread, Nishinoya…”

“I know you can, but – holy sh- crap.”

Noya stared up at the road that wound its way up the mountain. It had looked steep from a distance. It looked all but perpendicular up close. Deserted, too. No cars parked along the edge, no other pedestrians. The shadows of the buildings crept slowly up the slope, brick by brick, as the sun continued to set.

Asahi started up the hill without pausing, like he was racing the shadows. The toes of his shoes dug into the edges of the more precarious bricks. Noya started up after him, laughing as he tried to catch up.

“No wonder you were so good at mountain runs! This thing is steep!”

“Yeah – my old coach used to make us run up it,” Asahi admitted, making a face. “Whenever I feel exhausted at the end of the day and don’t want to climb I just think ‘at least I don’t have to run up’ and manage to motivate myself.”

“Good motivator,” Noya said, already panting a bit. His hamstrings were crying and they were only halfway up.

On a whim he turned around and started walking backwards, letting out a low whistle as the town below shrunk down and down and down with each step until all the whitewashed buildings looked like beached shells stuck in sand.

He felt a timid hand on his elbow and in lieu of protest merely patted Asahi’s arm and turned back around, relinquishing the view. Asahi was probably imagining him tumbling all the way back down. His head splitting open like a watermelon at the bottom.

“I think it’d take more than a steep road to crack my head open that good,” he mused aloud. “I’ve been told I have a very thick skull.”

“…What? Oh – I wasn’t… I was thinking more just… sprained ankle,” Asahi explained, quickly pulling his arm away. He grimaced. “Although now I’m picturing split skull and… brains…”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that last part,” Noya said dryly, rubbing the back of his hand. “It would probably just be a bunch of sugar water or something. Or little lightning bolts. A single amazing nerve bundle with high hopes for a brain diploma someday, maybe, but it’s content to just be a nerve bundle for now.”

“…Brain diplomas can be somewhat overrated. I’ve found,” Asahi finally said as they reached the top of the hill. “Not many people use them. They just like to display them. Sometimes in really fancy frames or… um…” He rubbed the back of his neck and quickly started off down another side street, mumbling, “Metaphors aren’t my forte. Sor—I’ll. Work on them.”

“You were doing good! Very convincing metaphorology,” Noya said encouragingly, glancing over his shoulder one last time at the view before hurrying after Asahi. The lampposts had stopped at the bottom of the hill, and as they walked further into the trees the shadows grew denser. Noya nearly killed himself on a loose brick, and after a cursory look to make sure no one was around, grabbed a hold of Asahi’s sleeve.

“Say this is okay, please, before I crack open my head for real and lose all my precious sugar water.”

In the dim light he saw Asahi’s brow furrow in a worried grimace, but all the older boy did was nod and say firmly, “This is okay. Or – uh…”

His voice lost its edge, and after a few seconds of painful silence he held his hand out, palm up.

“There’s… there’s no one around,” he mumbled. “And it’s dark and… I didn’t. I just took your bag yesterday and… that wasn’t what – my plans went… kind of awry.”

Noya opened his mouth to say something smart, something to chide Asahi maybe for his lack of follow through when his nerve cluster of a brain caught up with reality and realized this was follow through. Just a little late.

Noya silently took Asahi’s hand, shoving his fingers unceremoniously between the other boy’s larger ones because he didn’t know how long they had before someone showed up or Asahi’s house appeared suddenly like a definitive FIN at the end of a book. Asahi’s palm was tacky with sweat but the back was dry and soft and Noya’s thumb kept brushing over it. He wondered if this was what lizards or snakes felt like – he’d only pet one once and it was wild and it had been raining so he felt like he had a really poor grasp of snake texture.

Asahi’s thumb returned the gesture. It must have done something – tugged weird on the few light strands of hair on the back of Noya’s knuckles or hit just the right nerve because Noya’s stomach lodged itself in his throat; rock-climbing up his esophagus like it hadn’t done since that night on the veranda. He stood up a bit straighter, his elbow knocking against Asahi’s side.

“…This was a good idea,” he said, feeling shy and brave at the same time, the fingers of his free hand burying themselves in the crinkling white paper of the bread bag.

Asahi started, tripped over a brick and managed to right himself in time to laugh, embarrassed. His fingers tightened around Noya’s as he said in a fledgling’s voice, quiet enough so the trees wouldn’t hear.

“I’m glad.” 

They walked like that in that dense silence that followed, the position feeling less awkward and more comfortable with each tree they passed. The road took a sharp turn to the right, back towards the West and the sun. As the trees thinned, bands of orange light striped the road, Asahi’s face, Noya’s hands as he held them out, skin tingling from the warmth. A few houses were tucked back away from the road, the trees reduced to a scant few, until there was only one tall one left, clinging to the side of the slope. Smaller trees dotted their way towards a squat stone wall on the downward slope side of the terraced road. It had a wrought iron gate, and just before Asahi let go of his hand Noya spotted the bronze name plate.

Azumane.

Noya stopped in his tracks, staring up at the house that sat beyond the wall, crowding the left side of the enclosure. Two stories made of yellow-painted wood, the different parts of the house were stacked like uneven boxes. Some formed tiny dormers, some rooms that jutted out over their lower level brothers, some shrinking back into recesses with tiny picture windows. A hexagon tower clung to one corner of the house, bay windows wrapping around its upper levels. Black shutters framed the sides of every elongated window, black trim outlined the roof, the odd mishmash of balconies pocketing the house’s face. 

Next to the house was a garden that curved around to the back. Dwarf trees and shrubs that had probably been topiary mazes at one point. Small patches of greens and reds and pinks and blues where flowers had shoved their way wild into every plot of grassless soil. 

Asahi opened the latch on the gate and headed up the stairs to the covered entrance. Noya followed him, silent, the smell of moss and earth asking for quiet. The door was dark wood. Looked like it belonged in Beauty and the Beast. In the evil version or nice version of the Beast’s castle, Noya wasn’t sure. Asahi pushed it open with little ceremony and stepped inside, holding it open for Noya. He smiled, weakly.

“Sorry – it’s. Kind of too big of a house.”

Noya ducked under Asahi’s arm, looking around the entranceway. Normal cubbies for shoes, coat closet. The walls were a soft yellow, a cheerful, reddish wood wainscoting and trim drawing them back to two archways on either side. Noya could see the arms of couches through one of the arches. They looked weird. He wanted to look closer. At the end of the hall was a wide staircase that went up halfway before hitting a landing crowned with a large, arched window. The stairs twisted off into two different directions, out of sight. 

Noya sat down on the polished wood floor to untie his shoes, realizing a bit belatedly that he hadn’t said anything yet. He lined his shoes up and stood, waiting for Asahi to do the same before he said gravely, “If there are fewer than five ghosts haunting this place I will be very disappointed.”

Asahi blinked in surprise and then laughed. The noise echoed welcomingly around the hallway, and Noya realized why Asahi’s laugh sounded cheerful yellow to him all the time. It matched the walls where he lived.

With a curious impulse Noya darted forward, moving first through the left arch to look at the couches, Asahi tailing him, silent. Nervous, probably. 

The couches were all old – not threadbare but their little clawed feet didn’t say IKEA, exactly. Noya wandered through the rooms, noting all the watercolor paintings of bridges and cities and flowers that looked like they had titles like Flower Study, Untitled 1, grandfather clock, white gauze curtains fluttering around looking like the ghosts he was hoping for. There was a modest kitchen at the back of the house. Appliances looked old, too. Noya was disappointed they didn’t have clawed feet. The kitchen was linked to a back room with nothing but windows for walls that overlooked the rest of the garden before plunging down towards the streets and shops far, far below. 

Noya continued exploring, passing the wide staircase that led up from a back door, another living room with less fancy furnishings and a TV, video games, a room with books and bookshelves and a fireplace that would have been too solemn, cracked and magic except for the framed pictures of Asahi and his family decorating the surface that rendered it ordinary fireplace. They reached the other arch leading out to the entrance hallway, completing the circuit. But then Noya noticed a small door. It had to lead to a room that overlooked the street out front. But when he went towards the door Asahi hissed and grabbed his collar with a short, “Don’t.”

Noya blinked in surprise, staring at the door. Well now he really wanted to. It looked like all the other doors Asahi had let him open. Even the one that just had mops in it.

“Is that where you keep the bodies?”

“I’d say yes except I know that would make you want to go in even more,” Asahi said dryly, taking the bag of bread from Noya and half-sliding, half-jogging his way across the polished wood floor back to the kitchen. “That’s my mom’s work room. When she closes the door it means she needs just the noise she wants.”

Noya cast one last longing look at the door before following Asahi. He sat down at the kitchen table underneath the upside down steps that formed half the ceiling of the small space. He wrinkled his nose as he watched Asahi putter around the kitchen.

“I think the kitchen in my house is bigger than yours. No offense.”

“None taken. The only people who were originally back here were servants, so… I guess the architects didn’t care if it was cramped,” Asahi explained, grabbing a couple of bottles of Aquarius out of the fridge and setting them down on the table. “Here.”

Noya took one of the bottles, cracking it open with a grateful sigh and immediately chugging half, ignoring the mild brain freeze. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then grinned at Asahi.

“So should I call you ‘Young Sir’? ‘Little Lord?’ I honestly don’t know if those are real titles or if they just use them in video games.”

“No – please, no, “Asahi said quickly, fiddling with his bottle. “We’re not rich. The house is just – old. It’s technically on the historical registry too which is a really big pain – we only got internet last year, they wouldn’t let us do any remodeling. When my dad was little they use to hold tours… hence all the weird… furniture…”

“So… how’d you get the house if you’re not rich?” Noya asked curiously, eyeing the bread bag on the far counter. His stomach was grumbling but he was more interested in Asahi than food.

Asahi hummed in thought. He reached up to tug the elastic out of his hair, slowly working the strands back again into a looser bun as he talked.

“My great-grandfather was an interpreter at the Japanese embassy in Saint Petersburg. Russia. Like there’s another one –…sorry. Anyway the house was a gift when he returned and found out his house in Tokyo had been destroyed by the 1923 earthquake. They moved him up here at his request– he was originally from Sendai, so… close enough, I guess. My grandfather inherited the house but hardly ever lived here. He was a tutor to the Japanese secretary’s kids – again in Saint Petersburg… he grew up there partially so I think he liked it. But then the war, and… he and my family were blacklisted because of their former affiliations with Russia and – and I think some of their friends might have been Communists? My family wasn’t, though, but my grandfather used to talk about bailing one of his friends out of jail. But… anyway, the house was put on the historic register in the forties and wasn’t allowed to be a private residence anymore. We got it back during the occupation…”

Asahi trailed off, his cheeks flushed. He quickly took a swig of his drink before mumbling, “That was more information than you probably wanted. We inherited it, is what I should have said.”

“No – no Asahi that’s really cool,” Noya said passionately, his eyes wide. “I don’t even know what my great-grandparents did! Like I said I suspect peasanting but seriously the only remotely interesting thing about my family is that my little brother’s probably a genius. Oh! Oh, and my dad once got a request for a Western-style wedding where he had to do the hair of fifteen bridesmaids to look like they were French nobles from the 1700s and he did it and it looked amazing. Also I think my mom punched a man in the throat once? For good reasons – he’d just thrown an X-Acto knife at a judge. She might have been embellishing just to impress me, though. But it worked.”

Asahi stared at Noya, his mouth open just a bit. He closed it quickly.

“Your mom sounds. Scrappy.”

“Yeah, she’s neat. I like her a lot,” Noya said absently before refocusing. “But your family sounds neat too!”

“I’m very glad to hear you say so, Mr. Nishinoya.”

Noya jumped at the unfamiliar, airy voice. He extracted himself from underneath the stairs and turned to stare at the far doorway, where a tall, solidly built woman in her late fifties was taking up the majority of the door frame. She had a rather round face, but a well-defined jawline. Her hair was coiffed into a neat bun at the back of her head, but more striking were her clothes. A pale green kimono, unembellished and not that elaborate but it had been roughly a billion degrees out earlier and Noya couldn’t remember seeing a garage or cars anywhere (although he knew the Azumanes had to have one) and he really couldn’t fathom walking up a hill like the one they’d just tackled in anything other than gym shorts. But she had the air of someone who did things like that all the time in ridiculously uncomfortable clothing and didn’t think much of it. A thick eyebrow crept up her wrinkled forehead, her wide, brown eyes solemnly regarding him.

Asahi’s mom.

Holy shit she was fancy. And tall. 

Noya quickly stood up and bowed slightly, his neck hot with embarrassment. Staring at someone was always a good way to make a first impression.

“M-Mrs. Azumane, thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” he said as fast as he could, not wanting to delay the formalities any longer.

“Nishinoya – you don’t need to bow – please don’t bow,” Asahi said quickly, standing up and tugging lightly on Noya’s shoulder. “Mom, this is Nishinoya Yū –”

“Yes, I gathered,” Mrs. Azumane said, inclining her head slightly towards Noya before offering him a slightly awkward smile. “Have you eaten?” Her voice was surprisingly soft and fluffy for someone her size. Like a marshmallow. 

“No, Mom, he came over to have dinner with us, remember?” Asahi said patiently.

Mrs. Azumane blinked and then very lightly hit herself in the forehead.

“Ah – yes. Yes, right. Oh, Asahi, did you get the bread?”

Noya stared at the two Azumanes as they talked, his initial, heightened impression of Asahi’s mom slowly slipping down to fall more or less even with her son’s.

Mrs. Azumane suddenly snorted with laughter at something Asahi said. She quickly coughed to cover it before walking over to the fridge, her socked feet barely making a sound. She was graceful in her movements, at le—

There came a horrible clonking sound from inside the fridge. Mrs. Azumane straightened up quickly, rubbing her head.

“Asahi, I can’t bend in this obi. Get that for me, please,” she mumbled, heading to the stairs. “I’m going to change – I had a conference today and had to go out… Can you boys start – oh why are there two bread bags? Did Rika give you extra again?”

Asahi rolled his eyes very slightly and said a bit too loudly, “Yeah, she did. Go get changed, Mom, we’ll start dinner.”

Mrs. Azumane nodded and then carefully made her way up the stairs, holding onto the railing.

Asahi waiting until she was out of sight before he tugged off his jersey and started pulling things out of the fridge.

“We’re just having leftovers tonight except for gratin and the bread – I hope that’s okay,” he said a bit anxiously, setting a few dishes covered in plastic wrap down on the counter.

“I don’t care,” Noya said, moving to inspect the dishes. Seaweed salad, burdock root carrot thing, some pickled veggies… all very traditional. Unsurprising.

He tugged off his jersey as well and went to wash his hands.

“So what do you need me to do?”

“Oh – oh, you don’t actually have to hel—”

“So what do you need me to do?”

Asahi stood still for a moment and then silently held out a block of cheese and a grater, mumbling, “Sixty grams. Please.”

Noya saluted and took the things, heading to a deserted bit of counter space.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Asahi doing something with rice and milk in a saucepan on the stove. A light breeze ghosted through the house, tugging at the gauze curtains. From the front of the house – the forbidden room, Noya hoped – came soft strains of music. Two female voices, singing in a language he didn’t understand. It felt old. Refined and haunting.

Noya hissed as he accidentally grated a bit of his finger. He immediately shoved the injured appendage in his mouth before resuming his work at a less frantic pace.

Music, curtains, hardwood, servants. Refined.

He felt like a pebble in a fancy boot.

“Sorry – sorry about my mom.”

The sudden noise made Noya abandon his grater temporarily. He glanced curiously at Asahi. The older boy was stirring the rice on the stove, his face slightly pale. He must have felt Noya’s gaze – his eyes shifted slightly to stare apologetically at him.

“She’s a little… I dunno. Detached, I guess,” he said quietly. “I think it’s because of her job.”

“She seemed fine to me – a little spacey, maybe, but that must just run in the Azumane family,” Noya said, serious. “What’s her job, though? And here – this is about sixty. I think.”

“Thanks – this is eighty. Just – here, eat the extra. And she’s a writer.”

Asahi handed Noya the bottom part of the grater back, and Noya happily licked his fingers and dunked them in the grated cheese.

“Huh. So that’s her office?”

Asahi nodded, dumping the rice in a dish and sprinkling the cheese on top before shoving it in the small oven on the counter.

“What’s she write?”

Asahi’s fingers froze on the button for a moment before he finished programming the time.

“I dunno. This has to bake a while… we could see the rest of the house?”

Noya frowned at the obvious evasion but finally shrugged and set the dirty dishes in the sink. “Sure! Is your room just as fancy? I bet you have a bed, huh. A futon wouldn’t really go with the whole Taisho mansion feel.”

“Yeah, it’s a bed,” Asahi said in obvious relief that Noya had let the subject drop. “I actually like my room a lot… it used to be Jun’s and then it was Takeshi’s and… well now it’s mine. But they both still try and take it over when they come back for the holidays…”

“But aren’t there like a billion rooms in this place?” Noya asked curiously, following Asahi up the back staircase.

Asahi shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s the nicest, I guess. My parents’ room is this one – it’s got a private entrance to the back balcony so they like it. My dad comes home most weekends and spends a lot of time out there. This is the bathroom… and there’s the bath and – and this isn’t. Interesting.”

“You’re giving me a tour of your house – it’s necessary information, it’s fine,” Noya said, stopping to examine a portrait of a meadow on one of the walls. The whole hallway was spotted with pictures like that, all dust free, mounted in fancy frames. 

Asahi kept walking down the hallway and Noya had to hurry to catch up, peering in a few rooms as he passed. He saw more books, another TV with older looking video games, a room with an easel –

“Does someone in your family paint?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah – my dad,” Asahi said, finally pushing open a door and stepping inside. “He does watercolors. Here. My room.”

Noya peered around Asahi, a quiet “holy shit” escaping him despite his best efforts. The furniture was really plain – wood to match the floor, dark blue bedspread, rug, table, desk in the corner. But it was a room in the tower. Windows wrapped around three full sides, the ceiling stretching up incredibly high, a few bulbs dangling down, housed in fancy metal covers to light up the place.

“Whoa … You can see the station!” Noya said in excitement, rushing over to one of the windows and sticking his head out. The back garden wasn’t very big – the sharp slope ate up the edges of the grass and tugged it down to the trees below, but the view stretched out impossibly far beyond that, over the trees.

“Yeah, you can,” Asahi said, joining Noya by the window. “It’s nice – I can always tell when I’m going to be late…”

Noya laughed, propping his chin on the metal edge of the open window. The sun was right in his eyes. He didn’t care.

“This is amazing,” he said. “Really, really amazing. It’s like the top of those castles… you have a fief!”

“I do like it a lot… especially in the daytime,” Asahi admitted, resting his elbows on the rim next to Noya’s chin, his hands dangling over the edges. “There’s so much light, even on cloudy days. It makes me feel warm and… cheerful, I guess. At night, though… I’m not very good at being in here at night.”

“Why’s that?” Noya asked, flicking Asahi’s wrist lightly with his fingers.

Asahi shrugged.

“No blinds. I have to change in the bathroom and I feel like… like everyone can see me. We tried installing some but they kept falling down and… when I was little Jun told me it was ghosts. It feels like there’s nothing between me and the woods…”

“So why do you still have this room if you hate it half the time?” Noya asked curiously, poking Asahi’s wrist again.

“Stubbornness,” Asahi said blandly. “And tradition, I guess. Jun would probably try and move back in here if I gave it up. He’d just commute in to Shibuya every day…”

Noya laughed and was about to say that he’d gladly take the room off of Asahi’s hands when a gentle touch to his fingers made him glance up curiously at Asahi. The other boy was frowning slightly, the tip of his finger tracing the smudges on the back of Noya’s hand.

“What’s this? ‘Comic’… something?”

“Jocose and lugubrious,” Noya said, tugging his hand away. 

Asahi flinched, and Noya almost apologized but before he could even commit to willing that action Asahi asked, “Why do you have jocose and lugubrious written on the back of your hand?”

Noya fell silent, short-circuiting. Ryū hadn’t asked him that. He hadn’t needed to answer and he really wasn’t sure how to say ‘training’ without that leading to more questions.

He pushed his cuticles back with his nails as he thought, still not wanting to really say.

“Those are pretty hard characters. I don’t even think I know how to write ‘jocose.’”

Noya blinked and turned to look at Asahi. The older boy was still staring intently at his hand, his cheeks slightly red but a slightly sad expression on his face.

Noya’s fingers twitched under the scrutiny, and finally he surrendered.

“I didn’t know how to read them,” he said glumly, tracing their remains with his finger. “It sucked. Some people weren’t great about not being huge assholes.”

“God – I hate when they make me read aloud in class,” Asahi said with a heavy sigh, finally glancing up from Noya’s hand. “In elementary school I’d… I’d cry.” He winced. “Some of my teachers told my parents they thought I was maybe… I’m not sure how they phrased it but… slow. Essentially. They thought I couldn’t read but I just – I hated having to read aloud. I didn’t see the point and later I stopped crying and started getting… I think Mrs. Yamada called it ‘surly’ but really I just… it was awful.” He gave Noya a sad, tight smile. “So today must have been pretty sucky in that department. Huh.”

Noya drew his fingers close together in a fist, feeling small and stupid but lighter, still. A rejected helium balloon at the store.

“It really did,” he finally said, both hating admitting it and wondering why he hadn’t just said it to start with. “It sucked – it sucked so much, Asahi, I felt – ugh.” He made a disgusted noise and ran his hand down his face before blurting out, “I hate feeling stupid but I hate that I care even worse! Why does it matter if I know how to read this – there’s dictionaries and the internet, why do teachers keep insisting on humiliating me when they know I can’t do it?!”

“Because it’s their job – no it’s not their job to humiliate you!” Asahi quickly corrected, holding up his hands. “It’s their job to hold all the students to the same standard—”

“But you don’t believe that either, Asahi,” Noya said accusingly, his nails digging into his palm as his fingers tried to hide even more. “You just said last night that the bar is lower for you.”

Asahi winced and rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed and trapped. He finally sighed and then sat down on the floor, right in front of the windows. He lightly tugged on Noya’s shirt, his fingers holding onto it still after Noya sat down as well.

“School’s unfair,” he finally said, resting his chin in his hands. “It’s so much work and… I feel like I’m just jamming facts into one half of my brain only to have the other half fail to retain them. But—but I still… like it, I guess. Studying with Daichi and Suga… club, obviously. My other friends in my homeroom. And – and other. Perks. Of being a kid, and… even though I don’t… really look like one. Or feel like one, sometimes…”

He slowly leaned over until his cheek was pillowed very, very gently atop Noya’s head. Noya remained still, a part of him very upset to be having this conversation, another part determined not to move and disrupt Asahi even if an earthquake hit the house. He tugged lightly on Asahi’s shirt, mumbling, “I know your head’s not that light, you don’t have to be so dainty.”

Asahi immediately groaned and laughed, quietly.

“What did I say about using that word.”

“That it’s your favorite,” Noya said, fighting back a grin when he felt Asahi’s weight against him slowly increase. He butted his shoulder against Asahi’s for support, his eyes squeezing shut as the last of the sun’s rays hit them.

“My favorite. Just like how ‘jocular’ is yours, right?”

Noya froze, torn between offended and amused. When he felt Asahi’s regret practically oozing out of his pores, he opted for amused, laughed, and let the conversation get sucked away into the growing shadows on the floor.

They stayed like that for several minutes, quietly talking about club, about Asahi’s classmates, about Ryū’s family’s restaurant. And then the oven beeped, Mrs. Azumane called up, “Boys! Dinner!” 

Asahi slowly extracted himself from the tangle of limbs they had become, pushing his hair out of his face as he stood.

He offered Noya a hand up.

“She’ll grill you,” he warned. “She seems disorganized and incoherent, and she is, but she likes to pick people apart.”

“What a fun dinner this’ll be,” Noya said with a grin, grabbing Asahi’s wrist and letting himself be hoisted to his feet. Asahi tugged him close as they headed out into the hallway, his thumb brushing against the back of his hand, over the characters many, many times.

Noya pursed his lips and lightly bumped his hip against Asahi’s.

“Do you have some kind of mania about my hand, Asahi?” he asked lightly. 

Asahi’s thumb immediately stilled, but a moment later he said, “I have a mania about people who make you feel badly. I guess.”

Noya studied Asahi’s expression in the dim light of the hallway lamps. Asahi’s bottom lip was jutting out stubbornly, and when he glanced down at Noya his eyes flashed in a way that made Noya wonder if maybe there was a reason everyone thought Asahi was dangerous. He looked ready to fight, teeth set on edge behind thin, unassuming lips.

“Ah – sorry, that’s… probably a little too intense. It’s not even any of my business…”

And then he parted those lips to speak, and Noya could tell jus how much it would take before Asahi would actually fight anyone.

Noya tightened his hand around the older boy’s. Comforted.

“My business can be your business now. Unless I specifically say otherwise,” he said finally, stopping at the top of the stairs. Light drifted up from the kitchen below, and the smell of browned cheese and rice and the sharp hit of lemon wafted up with it.

Noya glanced down the stairs before tugging on Asahi’s sleeve.

“Their names are Tachima and Takagi and next time you come visit me in homeroom you should stop by their desks and just look at them for a few seconds before moving on. Like they’re the center of attention – just really stare at them like ‘I know who you are, Tachima and Takagi.’”

Asahi blinked.

“…You want me to look at them?”

“Yes. Make them really acknowledge their existence,” Noya said firmly. 

“…What kind of expression—”

“Any.”

“Should I glare?”

“You can. Neutral works too.”

“I don’t really understand the point of this exercise…”

“Well it’s – you’re a third year. You’re a tall, third year who knows me and likes… me? Scratch the question mark, you like me.”

“Yes.”

“And I want people to know that.”

“So you want me to stare at people in your class.”

“Yes.”

“So they know I like you.”

“Yes – sort of. So they know that I have concerned friends in tall and third year places.”

Asahi frowned, his brows furrowing slightly.

“So essentially you want me to stare at them just because I’m taller and older.”

Noya rolled his eyes and lightly hit Asahi’s arm.

“No! That’s not what I said – ah, forget it…”

“You want me to stare at them because I’m not taller and older?”

“Well – yeah,” Noya said slowly. “Any idiot like Ryū or me can glare someone into submission. It takes a lot more to just… nice someone into feeling shame.”

Asahi looked pleased. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“You think I’m nice.”

Noya laughed and socked Asahi in the stomach. Gently.

“Yeah, of course! I don’t like guys who are jerks. It’s really easy to be an asshole –and I hate it when guys act like that’s what it means to be grown-up. They think it’s more honest or mature or somehow better than taking the effort to be nice and help people enjoy the fact that they’re alive and doing things.”

“Ah… yeah. I think I know what you mean.”

Asahi grinned weakly, rubbing his stomach.

“…But I can’t believe you punched me even though I purposefully left off the question mark earlier and didn’t doubt you liking me. Did I really earn no points for that?”

Noya returned the grin, brandishing his fist.

“No. I would have just punched you twice if you’d doubted.”

“…Fair enough.” Asahi let out a little sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “But I have to tell you, I’m not really comfortable… nice-intimidating your classmates. If they continue to be assh—jerks then maybe you can—”

Noya burst out laughing. He brandished a finger at Asahi.

“You almost said assholes!” 

“I – …I felt it appropriate, initially—”

“It was amazing.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“No, it – I loved it – here, just a sec—”

Noya grabbed Asahi’s collar, tugging him down as gently as he could, too aware that there was only a flight of stairs and food in the kitchen to distract the other resident of the house.

Well – the other resident plus the ghosts he had to assume were there somewhere.

He bumped his lips against the side of Asahi’s mouth. Too clumsy to be called a kiss, too nervous, your-mom-can-probably-hear-us to be much of anything other than a brief flash of contact. A lit match, nothing more substantial.

“Asahi? Mr. Nishinoya?”

Asahi jerked away from Noya so quickly his neck made an awful popping noise. He stared wildly around, and Noya could see reality falling piece by piece back into Asahi’s brain. Stairs. His house. His mom—

“Oh god my mom’s right there,” Asahi hissed, his face pale but his lips smiling anxiously. “And she’s so nosy – I can’t keep a diary anymore she finds them so fast.”

“…You kept a diary?”

Asahi’s mouth snapped shut. He immediately turned and headed down the stairs, almost tripping over the last couple. Noya laughed and followed him, ducking into the kitchen. The small table under the stairs was loaded with food. Bowls of rice, the gratin in a pretty plate that was some kind of… ceramic? That was a word. With roses painted on it. There was also a teapot and tea and when Noya sat down in the seat clearly for him (marked by the mismatching bowls and chopsticks) he could smell the orange and bitter black leaves.

Mrs. Azumane was sipping at a cup, her hair still pulled back but her clothes much more everyday, although her blouse still said fancy, as did the small stag beetle pin on her lapel. It glittered with some sort of stones.

She offered Noya an unsure smile, which he returned, brighter.

“It looks great, ma’am,” he said enthusiastically, picking up his spoon and digging in at Asahi’s silent prompting (lightly kicking him in the shins).

“Oh. Asahi made it,” Mrs. Azumane said, setting down her cup and picking up her spoon as well to lightly poke at the gratin. “So you should direct your thanks thirty three degrees to your right.”

“…Okay!” Noya said as neutrally as he could. He spared a glance at Asahi who pinked slightly and mumbled, “I have cookbooks” by way of explanation before resuming eating.

Noya snorted quietly and turned back to his plate, bumping his foot against Asahi’s. It really was good. Especially considering its creator. 

For a while there was only the sound of spoons scraping against bowls, chopsticks clattering as they passed the dishes around. The classy ladies singing earlier had morphed into violin sounds escaping from behind the office door.

“Asahi knows you from club.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but Noya still swallowed his mouthful and said politely, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mrs. Azumane will do,” she said, finally lifting her head to smile at Noya. She looked slightly mystified to see him there, nonetheless. “And you’re not a third year. I don’t remember you from that time the other boys came over?”

“No, I’m a second year.”

She nodded, slowly, a few strands of brown hair falling in her eyes. She pushed them back absentmindedly.

“You played last year? I remember Asahi mentioning you.”

Noya glanced at Asahi in surprise, his toes curling against the floor in happiness.

“You talked about me last year?”

“Mom – I talked about all the team,” Asahi said earnestly, turning to stare pointedly at his mother. “You tried to freak out Daichi and Suga with that too.”

Mrs. Azumane hummed in thought and then said airily, “Ah yes, you did mention all of them at one point or another. It was egregious of me to fixate on one example.” But when she lowered her head to take another sip of tea Noya caught a flash of a smile around her lips. She smiled like Asahi. Genuine in secret.

Noya ducked his head as well, sure he’d give something away if he spoke too soon.

“What are your long-term aspirations, Mr. Nishinoya?”

“Huh?! Oh – oh uh.”

Noya retrieved his spoon from where he’d dropped it in the gratin bowl, carefully wiping his fingers on a napkin. Shit. Shit shit – Asahi wasn’t on the college entrance exams track but he wasn’t exactly dumb, he’d probably get a decent career doing something. But one of his brothers was some weird hermit by the sound of it – and had his parent’s full approval to do said hermiting. He probably couldn’t go wrong with being honest.

“I – I have no idea,” he said finally, setting his spoon down on his empty plate. “Pro? Maybe? If I’m lucky.”

“And talented enough,” Mrs. Azumane added, ignoring her son’s horrified, “Mom.”

“Oh – well of course that… that too,” Noya said awkwardly, rubbing his forearm. Still hurt a bit from practice. “I think I’m… well I can’t play at the professional level just yet but I still have a year of high school… and Coach Ukai was talking about a few intensive training camps, so I’m… I can get better. Definitely.”

“And barring a pro career? Which are short-lived.”

Noya stared at Asahi’s mother, who for once was making firm eye contact. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but she didn’t seem to be angry either. Merely observing.

“I – I haven’t… I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he finally managed to say, a bit unnerved by the scrutiny. “My mom’s very interested in that question too so once I have an answer for her I’ll be sure to, uh. Fax you.”

Mrs. Azumane laughed at that, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She suddenly stopped, her expression serious.

“We don’t have any landlines in this house. They couldn’t put them in at the time and when our remodeling contract was finally approved landlines were all but extinct. You’ll have to email me instead.”

“Mom – Nishinoya was just kidding.”

“I receive a good number of emails a day, though, so it might be a while before I can respond.”

“Nishinoya’s not going to email you about his life!”

Mrs. Azumane glanced at her son, silent for a moment before she wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue just a bit.

“He might. You can’t possibly know for sure.”

Noya burst out laughing at the look of mortification on Asahi’s face.

“Mom! This is why Daichi and Suga didn’t want to come back!”

“I suspect it’s more the case that you didn’t want them back here, my dear, rather than the other way ‘round,” Mrs. Azumane said lightly, pushing herself away from the table and starting to gather the dishes. “Thank you for cooking, Chef.”

“You’re – yeah, it’s fine,” Asahi muttered, his face still pale.

Noya lightly patted Asahi’s knee, unsurprised when that just made the older boy tense and mumble something else to himself. Noya pinched Asahi’s thigh instead and was rewarded with a little yelp that Mrs. Azumane luckily seemed to miss. Noya quickly stood, gathering up the dishes as well.

“Here, let me help—”

“Sit. You cooked. Drink your tea and eat the pear tart in the bread bag,” came the distracted response. 

Noya stared at the armful of dishes and then slowly set them back down and grabbed his tea cup. He stared at the dark liquid and then took a sip. He made a face. Bitter.

“Asahi—”

Asahi nudged one of the bowls closer to Noya with the tip of his finger, his gaze averted. Noya peered inside and swallowed a sigh of relief. Sugar cubes.

He dumped a handful into his tea and stirred it with his gratin spoon, ignoring Asahi’s little retch of disgust. Whatever, it was licked clean.

“Why do you get so many emails, Mrs. Azumane?” he asked politely, his expression lighting up when Asahi tugged the bread bag over and began rifling through it until he found the tart.

Mrs. Azumane hummed, audible even over the sound of the water running.

“Oh. Edits, mostly. Invitations to conventions, libraries… I’m quite popular.”

“Asahi said you’re a writer?” Noya prompted, mouthing ‘thank you’ at Asahi as the older boy carefully ripped the tart in half, setting one of them on a plate for him. Asahi just nodded, licking pear and crust off his fingers.

“Yes. I am.”

“Do you have a pen name?” Noya asked curiously, stabbing a pear. “My dad reads a lot; he might have some of your books.”

“I do, but I don’t feel I should tell you.”

That gave Noya pause. He glanced at Asahi, but the other boy’s face was a dark crimson. He met Noya’s gaze and quickly shook his head no. Which obviously meant yes.

“Why?”

“I don’t think my books are appropriate for someone your age,” Mrs. Azumane said vaguely, gathering up the rest of the dishes and taking them to the sink.

Noya frowned for a moment, trying to decipher what that could mean before it hit him. He leaned over to whisper in Asahi’s red ear, “Asahi does your mother write porn?”

“Adult light novels and cell-phone novels, yes,” Mrs. Azumane replied from her spot by the sink. “You really shouldn’t ask Asahi about it, though. He gets so uncomfortable.”

Noya sat up straight and peered at Mrs. Azumane out of the corner of his eye. He really wanted to ask more questions but he could feel Asahi’s gaze pleading him not to, so he let it go. For the time being.

Suddenly Asahi stood, grabbing his plate and cup.

“Mom, is it okay if we eat dessert in my room? We really should get homework done.”

“Yes, of course… bring your dishes down when you’re done. Those you have to wash yourselves…”

“Sure things, Mrs. Azumane,” Noya said cheerfully, grabbing his plate and quickly downing his tea. It was mostly solidified sugar. He didn’t want to accidentally spill it all over Asahi’s stuff.

When he lowered his cup, Asahi had already disappeared up the stairs. He hurried after him, catching up just Asahi reached his bedroom door.

“Hey – slow down, I’m pretty bad at carrying stuff without spilling. Ironically,” Noya said, catching his breath.

“How is that ironic?” Asahi asked, pushing open the door to his bedroom and immediately sitting down on the floor in front of the small table in the middle of the room. Noya sat down next to him and resumed dissecting his pie thing, pushing the crust onto Asahi’s plate.

“Because I have good reflexes so you’d assume I’d be good at carrying things. Here, eat this, please.”

Asahi prodded the sugar-sogged crusted but dutifully popped it in his mouth after a moment. He licked his lips clean and then said glumly, “We probably should study at least a little…” He worried at his lip and glanced at the darkened windows. “Although it is getting late—”

“Studying’s good,” Noya said enthusiastically, grabbing his bag from where he’d dumped it in the corner in front of Asahi’s closet doors. They were open slightly, and a flash of red inside caught Noya’s attention. He pushed the doors open and tugged the object out, laughing when he recognized it.

“It’s your bag from last year! The one Daichi hucked down a stairwell.”

“Huh? Oh – yeah, I… I haven’t had a chance to go through it yet,” Asahi said, his tone slightly cagey as he pulled out his notebooks. “Are you sure you want to study, though? It’s late and the trains only run until— h-hey! Don’t open it!”

Noya paused, his hand already in the bag. He turned to look at Asahi.

“Why not?”

“It’s – private.”

Noya frowned, wiggling his fingers. He felt something soft.

“I think there might be a dead rat in here.”

“There’s not a dead rat in there.”

“I feel something fuzzy!” Noya insisted, ripping the top of the bag open despite Asahi’s loud protest of, “It’s not a rat, Nishinoya!”

Noya stared inside the bag, slightly disappointed to see it wasn’t a rat. Just a knit cap and some gloves. 

“Ah, man. You were right,” he said glumly, pulling out the items and wiggling them in Asahi’s direction. “Not a rat.”

“Like I told you,” Asahi muttered, swiping the things out of Noya’s hand and shoving them under the table.

“Hey – they go back in the bag, clearly,” Noya said in exasperation, reaching for the gloves. Asahi pushed them away subtly with his foot and tapped the table. 

“Study or train station, Nishinoya. I don’t want your parents mad at me…”

“They won’t be – I told them I was studying at an upperclassman’s house and Mom nearly flipped her lid she was so happy,” Noya said, lunging for the gloves again and making an irritated noise when Asahi kicked them farther away. “Asahi! Cut it out!”

“She was happy? Why?” Asahi said in clear surprise, and Noya took advantage of the older boy’s distracted state to crawl under the table and retrieve the gloves. He popped back out on the other side, out of Asahi’s reach, and brandished them triumphantly.

But then he stopped. Examined the gloves closer.

“…Asahi, why do you have a pair of kid’s gloves in your old school bag?”

Asahi stared holes in the top of the table. His pencil slowly rolled away from him. He reached out to stop it with one finger.

“…-t kid’s.”

Noya examined the gloves again.

“What?”

Asahi slowly leaned forward to rest his head against the table.

“They’re not kid’s gloves,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the wood. “They’re yours.”

“Mine?” Noya said in surprise. He flipped the gloves inside out and sure enough there were the English letters YN scribbled on the label. 

He righted the fabric and set them down on the table before scooching around to Asahi’s side.

“Asahi.”

The other boy didn’t move.

“Asahi, why are my gloves in your bag.”

“Because I’m a freak.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not,” Noya said patiently. “I think a freak would have… I don’t know. Eaten the gloves to absorb their power. Or maybe buried them somewhere and made a gravestone for them. Given them to a cat, maybe.”

Asahi slowly pushed himself up, his hair all in his face again. It looked stringy from sweat and embarrassment. As much as any hair could look embarrassed.

“…A cat in gloves would be kind of cute,” he said quietly. “But no, I’m… okay I won’t… say freak but I’m. Not. Regular. With thought processes sometimes. Can we at least agree to that.”

“I’m sure the story of how my gloves ended up in your bag isn’t that dramatic,” Noya said, bumping his knee against Asahi’s. 

Asahi ran his thumb along the spiral of his notebook before glancing at Noya again, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Do you remember when we played that one practice match in Shiroishi last year? We had to take the local train back and it took a couple hours...”

“Yeah – yeah, their one middle blocker was gigantishly tall,” Noya said, turning to rest his back against the table so he could face Asahi properly. “Why?”

Asahi let out a breath, his hair blowing up out of his face.

“The train was getting ready to leave the station and you and Tanaka were horsing around doing… something I don’t remember—”

“Sounds realistic enough.”

“—but then suddenly you cursed and looked out the window at the platform. Tanaka asked what was wrong and you said you’d dropped one of your gloves on the platform.”

Noya remained silent, the memory coming back to him. It had been a late game in the year. There was frost on the station windows and he’d hoped it would snow. He remembered what came after too, but let Asahi say it, wanting to hear from someone else who considered the clearly mundane extraordinary enough to construct a narrative out of it.

“Tanaka offered to vault out the window and grab it… Daichi stopped him of course but you laughed and said not to worry about it,” Asahi continued, his eyes growing soft. “You tugged the other glove off and just as the train was leaving you threw it out the window. Tanaka said something about frostbite, asked you why you bothered but you just shrugged and said, ‘Now someone will find a pair instead of one.’”

“…Oh yeah…” Noya laughed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in slight embarrassment. “My mom was pissed… she said ‘we have thousands of mismatched gloves and you don’t care anyway, why waste a potential one.’ But… I don’t know. It looked kind of sad all by itself on the platform.”

“Sad – I see.” Asahi folded his hands in his lap. “There’s actually a similar anecdote that’s passed around – I think it’s a subway, though, not a train… But I thought you might have heard of it and wanted to reenact it or… something.”

“No, I just… didn’t want the glove to be lonely, I guess. I dunno, I was dumb as a first year. And… like I said it seemed like a waste to find only one good glove,” Noya said, his cheeks pinking slightly. “…I’m aware how childish that sounds now. And how stupid it is – my hands are so small no one would be able to wear them anyway.” He reached out to prod Asahi in the chest, staring up at him expectantly. 

Asahi stared back.

“…Yes?”

“At this point in the story we have two gloves on a train platform.” Noya grabbed them and dangled them in Asahi’s line of sight. “Clearly not there anymore.”

Asahi looked away, clearing his throat.

“Clearly – clearly not.”

“You went back for them?”

Asahi pressed his lips together in a stubborn line but then finally nodded, once.

“Like I said, I thought you were just showing off or—or something,” he muttered, grabbing the gloves again and setting them aside. “And you never wore another pair after that – or a hat or coat or anything which made me kind of… worried. So on our next day off I called all the stations on that line to see if they were in lost and found and finally someone found them. They shipped them back up to me but when I got them I realized I had no idea what to do with them. I wanted to give them back but then I kept talking myself out of it – what if that moment had been really meaningful to you? Or maybe you actually hated gloves and that’s why you abandoned them and never wore another pair or – or what if you thought I was a freak for working so hard just to get a pair of cheap gloves back. I’d tried to ask Suga if he remembered the incident and he said what are you talking about and I felt weird for noticing and fixating – even Daichi didn’t remember, I doubted Tanaka would either it was just me noticing unimportant details while everyone else forgot about them and moved on properly and I kept worrying about what to do, if you’d think I was weird or not even remember at all and I wasn’t even sure which one was worse. And then it got to be so long – then the Dateko match happened and…”

Asahi trailed off, toying frenetically with a hangnail before pulling it sharply, exposing a long line of clean, pink flesh. He cursed, shoving his finger in his mouth before it started to bleed.

Noya grabbed one of the gloves and gently tugged Asahi’s hand away from his face. He pressed the glove against the little blood spot.

“Sorry. This probably isn’t sterilized.” Noya winced. “…It seemed like a symbolic gesture.”

“No – it… probably has my bag’s germs all over it,” Asahi said quietly. “But the symbolism is… confusing but appreciated.”

“…I’ll get a tissue.”

Asahi wordlessly pulled a pack out of his school bag and handed them over. Noya yanked one out of its plastic compartment and tossed the glove aside, pressing the tissue against Asahi’s finger instead. He glanced up at the older boy through his lashes, studying his face.

“And?”

“And –…” Asahi looked lost. “And germs. Are bad for cuts. So thank you?”

Noya clicked his tongue.

“No. Before. And what?”

“Oh.”

Asahi worried at another hangnail until Noya bumped his knee against the older boy’s again and said, “Stop.”

Asahi slowly lowered his hand, staring at the tissue. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his wrist, exhaustion in his voice.

“And after that match, I didn’t…I didn’t think you’d want anything from me anymore. Ever again,” he said, tone turning bitter. “And I realized I’d spent months agonizing over a stupid pair of gloves because I was too afraid or intimidated to even talk to you much outside of club. Afraid of you and afraid of my fixation on having this one, stupid conversation. And then it figured – it just figured that the one time I did talk to you was yelling and horrible – it wasn’t talking it wasn’t a conversation, just me lying and you breaking things and when I got home and saw those stupid gloves in my bag I got so angry at myself because if I’d just talked to you earlier – talked about something meaningless, about a stupid glove story I’d read in a magazine and you’d unwittingly reenacted in real life you probably wouldn’t have thought I was a freak or weird or creepy. You probably would have laughed and said thank you and maybe I’d be less scared of the idea of talking to you or listening to you. Maybe I’d be able to stop obsessing and rehearsing conversations with you in my head that would never actually happen, that always petered out anyway because my brain didn’t know you well enough to formulate Nishinoya responses and maybe – maybe we would have just talked instead of yelled. Maybe I would’ve known how.”

Noya silently flipped the tissue over, letting a clean white space soak up the red. He listened to Asahi breathe, the noise uneven. 

“We probably still would have ended up yelling,” he said finally, just before the point he knew Asahi felt it necessary to apologize for the silence. “I yell a lot. I’ve yelled at Ryū and he probably knows me best on the team. I get loud and fired up – it’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is,” Asahi muttered, trying to tug his finger away and making a frustrated noise when Noya wouldn’t let him. “You know that whole fiasco – if I’d just talked to you—”

“It was half your fault. And I don’t care about it anymore anyway,” Noya interrupted. “I won’t tell you not to care because that seems futile and pointless. And kind of controlling, actually and I’m trying to get better at resisting the urge to tell people what to do. Even when I’m clearly right about it.”

Asahi fell silent at that, only saying softly, “It’s stopped bleeding, I think,” when a few seconds had passed. Noya pulled the tissue away and nodded in approval.

“Go get a bandage,” he ordered. 

Asahi pushed himself to his feet, his joints cracking.

“Thought you said you were going to resist the urge to tell people what to do,” he said, a note of cautious teasing in his voice.

Noya grinned and lightly nudged Asahi’s calf with his toe.

“You’re the exception. You’d flounder without me. Go stop bleeding. Also do you have a pair of scissors?”

“Scis—” 

Asahi narrowed his eyes.

“…What for.”

Noya hopped to his feet and started rifling through Asahi’s desk drawer.

“They’re probably in here, right?”

“Nishinoya!”

“Asahi you’re dripping blood everywhere probably! Go get a bandage!”

“You – …Top left drawer, please try to only slightly damage my other school supplies if you can help it.”

Noya waved over his shoulder at Asahi, finally finding the scissors. He brought them over to the table and performed emergency surgery on the gloves. He shoved the scissors back in the drawer and sat down again, just as Asahi returned, mumbling to himself, “Always the Hello Kitty ones on sale…”

“Cute band-aid.”

“My mom’s oddly cheap for someone who lives in a Taisho-era mansion,” Asahi muttered, sitting back down on his cushion. Noya held out his hand expectantly and finally with a very slight roll of his eyes Asahi extended his own hand. 

“I know, pink clashes with our uniforms,” he mumbled. “I’ll be sure to change it.”

“It’s cute – Taka likes Keropi,” Noya said absently, inspecting Asahi’s finger before finally letting go, deeming it acceptable. He grabbed the gloves and held one of them out, hoping Asahi wouldn’t mind the mutilation of his memory object. 

“Here. You should keep these and wear them.”

Asahi stared at the scrap of fabric in Noya’s hand before he cleared his throat.

“I… I really appreciate the gesture, Nishinoya, but I think we’ve established that my hands are maybe… they’re slightly larger than yours. By just a hair.”

“I know that,” Noya said as patiently as he could. “That’s why I fixed them – give me your hand again.”

Asahi hesitated but then cautiously held out his hand. Noya grabbed his wrist and tugged the glove on, Asahi’s fingers easily slipping through the cut up fingers. Noya pulled the other one on and held up his hand for inspection, wiggling his fingers.

“They’re miller mitts!” he said proudly. “See?”

Asahi stared at the glove, moving his fingers experimentally. 

“…I’m not trying to be mean, but – these feel fairly useless,” he said cautiously.

“What? No!” Noya protested, sitting beside Asahi so he could compare their hands. “They’re for when you have to do detail work with your fingers but it’s cold out. My dad uses them when he’s working on the car in the winter.”

“Oh…”

Asahi curled his fingers. Noya could see the tendons in his wrist flexing.

“That makes sense,” he finally said, knocking his knee against Noya’s. “Thanks. I think.”

“Thanks you know,” Noya corrected, resting his head on Asahi’s arm. “They’re cool, right?”

“…Honestly I feel a little like Michael Jackson, but I want to emphasize that I appreciate the gesture.”

“You’ll be wearing this one too, Asahi.”

“Ah… right.”

Asahi fell quiet. His thumb rubbed at the bandage every so often. Noya watched him carefully, making sure he wasn’t about to rip it off and hack away at his remaining cuticles. He frowned, suddenly, realizing something.

“Are you mad I cut them up?”

“What? Oh… no, not really,” Asahi said quietly, lowering his hand to rest timidly on Noya’s knee. “They’re yours to begin with.”

Noya knit his brow, glancing up at Asahi.

“We could burn them instead,” he offered. “Like when they burn really symbolic things. Blessed arrows and uh… talismans?”

That got Asahi to laugh.

“Burning them would be pretty cool,” he said, shifting just a bit to press his nose to Noya’s temple, tugging him closer with an arm around his waist. “But I don’t want to destroy your artwork.”

Noya butted his head against Asahi’s chest, frowning as he stared at the glove before tugging it off and tossing it on the table.

“Wear them, then,” he said finally. “Because honestly this is probably what I would have done anyway.”

Asahi cautiously carded his fingers through Noya’s hair, apologizing when the bandage snagged a few strands.

“What do you mean?”

“If you’d talked to me when you’d wanted to. I would’ve given them to you,” Noya explained, his conviction growing stronger the longer he talked. “I wouldn’t have thought you were weird. I would have thought ‘dammit why didn’t I think of calling lost and found, maybe Mom wouldn’t have broken her five hour yelling-at-me record.’ And then I would have offered you the gloves as a prize for being wicked smart and you would have pointed out that there’s no way they’d fit, so I’d sneak into the art room at lunch and chop the fingers off and give them to you.”

He pushed himself away from Asahi’s chest and reached up to rub his knuckle against Asahi’s cheek. “So try and stop freaking out. It would’ve been fine and it is fine now. What’s there to worry about?”

Asahi gave him a pathetic look, mumbled ‘ow’ very softly and then said, “It’s a nice thought, that’s true.”

“It’s not a thought, it’s inevitability,” Noya said firmly, resting his hand against Asahi’s collarbone, his fingers curling against the fabric. “You were supposed to have them. It’s fate.”

Asahi gave him an unimpressed look.

“I made a call to the station.”

“Fate.”

“It really wasn’t that impressive—”

Noya pressed his hands on either side of Asahi’s face to get him to look at him, self-assured instinct hijacking his tongue like it always did whenever Asahi’s voice wavered and he looked like he grew up a kid who believed in exactly zero extraordinary things.

“Why are you so reluctant to see how important your choices are?” he demanded, answering for Asahi before the other boy could finish stammering out his surprise. “Asahi, I like the idea that the universe made me impulsive and glove throwing and made you neurotic and telephone calling. I like that I can grab your face like this and you don’t shove me away and I like how easy it’s starting to be to just – touch you – your face your chest and – where it’s clearly not me just being friendly. And even though I’m really scared sometimes in brief flashes about doing stuff like this in real life and not just in the embarrassing scenarios my brain indulges in when I’m in class. I like knowing you’re scared too and that you over think things because I under think and something at some point had to balance me out and I’m so glad it was you. I just want inevitability to keep happening to me because so far – so far it’s been a nice sort of god that let me end up here in your poltergeist infested house eating dinner with you and your weird mother who seems in all honesty kind of loopy in a fun way.”

He lowered his hands and sat back, Asahi knees trembling a bit as they supported him. He let his hands rest in his lap as he met Asahi’s eyes.

“And I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me,” he said. He winced. “Although I was… I thought you were really cool. I probably would have acted like an idiot so I’m almost glad we didn’t start talking until I started to see you as just another guy instead of this… uh…”

He trailed off as embarrassment caught up with him.

Asahi remained still for a moment before he moved his hand to press gently against Noya’s cheek.

“…You thought I was cool.”

Noya grumbled a bit, backing up until he hit the table. Still on Asahi’s knees.

“Think. And you know this already,” he protested. “I tell you every day…”

Asahi wrinkled his nose, obviously fighting off a smile.

“Even though I was just freaking out about lost apparel?”

“Well – obviously I didn’t know that part until just a few minutes ago,” Noya amended, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. “But that’s – it’s no weirder than some of the stuff I’ve done and thought.”

Asahi raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Noya blanched, pressing a hand against Asahi’s face.

“Oh no.”

“I nearly went into cardiac arrest telling the glove story,” Asahi protested, trying to tug Noya’s hand away. “You wrote a love poem to the universe – how much more embarrassing could it be?”

“It wasn’t a love poem,” Noya said decisively, pressing his hand a bit more firmly over Asahi’s eyes. “It was a genuine expression of gratitude.”

“It was still poetic in nat—Nishinoya your hand is like one of those alien face suckers, I’m going to suffocate.”

“Face su—you’ve seen Alien?!”

“Suga made me watch it –”

Asahi quickly ducked his head, escaping. Before Noya could retaliate Asahi grabbed his wrists with one hand, gently pinning them against his chest with a triumphant grin. He held up his free hand, still sporting the bandage.

“Didn’t even have to use my Miss Kitty hand.”

“Asahi – you huge dork I can’t believe I gave you my gloves!”

“You can keep the fingertips? I see them lying in a pile over there.”

“Asahi!”

Asahi quickly pressed a finger to his lips, his brown eyes shining a bit behind the strands of hair falling in front of them.

“Poltergeists.”

Noya frowned, but finally nodded once in acquiescence. The moment Asahi lowered his guard, however, he used the table as a springboard and pushed himself forward, his momentum toppling them both over, Asahi’s head narrowly missing hitting the bed. 

“Whoa – sorry about that, Asahi,” Noya said in a rush, quickly pinning Asahi’s wrists above his head so he could be all triumphant and smirky down at him. Asahi stared up at him, blinking slowly.

“That’s okay,” Asahi said, his cheeks red again. “…We can check for a concussion later.”

Noya laughed, scooting up Asahi’s body until his knees were firmly wedged on either side of Asahi’s ribcage.

“I’m sure you’re fine,” he said soothingly, wondering if he should pretend to drool a bit and freak Asahi out. He studied the older boy’s face, mapping out his target before a little tug to his gut made him stop. Asahi had averted his eyes, which Noya initially had read to be a preemptive move against potential slobber droppage. But Asahi’s gaze was too focused for that. Cheeks too red, pulse quickening underneath Noya’s fingertips until it was drumbeats loud against his skin.

Noya slowly loosened his hold, letting Asahi’s wrists slip out from his fingers. Asahi’s brown eyes flicked up to study him before looking away again. His hands moved to rest on Noya’s thighs, the reticence gone from their weight.

Noya swallowed heavily, aware that his heart was pounding enough that it felt like every artery in his body was going to explode. Asahi could probably count the beats per minute against his palms.

Noya leaned down, his hands bracing against Asahi’s chest.

But then he stopped.

There was a moment, a very quiet, sad moment when Noya asked himself a question. A bit of doubt, sparking bright for an instant. Unease over temper, idealizing, obsession. 

Asahi’s hands tightened around his thighs, and the spark went up in smoke.

Noya kicked the match away, not interested any longer in thinking. He buried his fingers in Asahi’s hair, hearing himself gasping clumsily against the other boy’s lips and waiting, wondering if Asahi was going to laugh again – reflexive, uplifting.

Asahi groaned instead of laughed, his fingers leaving soft pressure marks against the backs of Noya’s thighs. 

Noya felt that something stir in his gut again, wild and scary in its insistence, wanting him to move back, just a bit, just enough to see, to feel –

His body moved, stopping only when Asahi’s fingers tightened before their pressure eased and the older boy asked in a soft, worried voice, “N-Nishinoya – are you leaving?”

His name cut through the wildness, but it still had its claws in his tongue. So all Noya could do was shake his head and kiss Asahi again, the pads of his thumbs tracing the older boy’s sideburns, the line of his jaw.

He heard his phone buzz, barely audible over the sound of Asahi laughing, finally, and his own outburst of, “Every time, Asahi, seriously?”

“I can’t help it – I told you it happens when I get nervous—”

“You’re the one with your hands on my legs – what do you have to be nervous about?”

“Nothing I – I guess… you’re just so – you’re a-attractive and kind of on top of me—”

“Your definition of ‘kind-of’ needs some reworking.”

Asahi laughed again, less nerves, more elation, and pushed himself up with his elbow to kiss Noya, his lips rough and chapped and skin rough too.

Noya tilted his head at Asahi’s gently prompting, shuddering at the feel of Asahi’s warm tongue against his.

His phone buzzed again, demanding attention from the depths of his bag, but he let it go. The distant strains of music, the women singing the language he didn’t know, seeped through the bones of the house, drowning out the noise. Distracting the ghosts, hopefully.

Stupid to doubt. 

Asahi liked him. Wasn’t any more profound than that.

Didn’t need to be.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got rather long so I had to split it into two chapters. Welcome to Chapters 12 and 13 on AO3. I had no idea I would have to do this so many times.
> 
> I’m messing with the timeline a little. Because it’s a Semi-AU and I can do what I want.
> 
> Also no this isn’t abandoned. I will make an announcement and adjust the summary if that happens (it probably won’t). Now that I am back in grad school I simply do not have the time to devote to writing that I had when I was working a more typical job. Thank you for bearing with me. I tried to ensure that the wait would be worth it.

“Watch line – line!”

“Good save, Kinoshita!”

“Sorry off net off off!”

“Roll! Free ball!”

“Get it – Tsukishima nice!”

“Watch block—”

Shoes slipping in the light coat of dust on the floor, block angle too sharp Daichi’s hit wasn’t strong enough –

Noya dove, the ball rocketing off his closed fist. He caught himself awkwardly and the small bones in his wrist hit the ground first. No padding, it’d hurt later. He popped back up, saw the graceful, slow-motion arc of Suga’s set, Narita grunting quietly as his hand connected.

The ball hit the tip of the block and careened past the vanguard and towards the back line. 

“Azumane!”

“Got it!”

Noya tore his eyes away from the ball for just a moment, watching Asahi scramble to pick himself up off the floor. Looked like he’d landed on his unguarded knee—

The slam of a spike wrenched his attention back to where it belonged. He barely had time to yell, “Mine!” to keep Daichi from barreling into him. He felt the receive leave his arms at a weird angle and winced.

“Short! Sorry, Suga!”

“Narita!”

Narita’s approach was off. Noya noticed it too late. Palm, block, WHAM! Too fast to do anything about it but Noya threw himself at the ball anyway. It slammed against the floor centimeters away from his fist. He let himself lie face down on the ground for a few seconds, nose smushed against the hardwood, breathing in the paste of dust and sweat that was clinging to the boards.

His hand hurt. That little bone was probably all bruised.

A ball hit him square in the left asscheek, hard enough to sting a little. It bounced off and rolled away amidst bursts of laughter.

“Nishinoya, he of the super glutes –”

“Holy crap it actually bounced—”

“Tanaka you haven’t gotten your throwing privileges back yet knock it off.”

“Noya are you okay?!”

Noya pushed himself up. He rubbed the offended area and shot Ryū a little glare before grinning at Hinata and gesturing for him to come closer.

“Hey, Shōyō!”

Hinata padded forward, a worried look on his endearingly sweaty face.

“Yes?”

“Go kick Ryū in the shins for me!”

“Wh – o-oka—”

“Hinata, don’t kick Tanaka in the shins.”

“Chikara’s just being polite, Shōyō, it’s okay. You have strong kicks it’s time to really put their mettle to the test!”

“Absolutely under no circumstances should you test your kicks on our teammate’s shins, Hinata. And Nishinoya, stop corrupting our youth,” Ennoshita said blandly even as he offered Noya a hand up. Noya let Ennoshita hoist him to his feet. He dusted himself off and patted Hinata on the shoulder to get him to calm down and stop looking so confused. Ryū was grinning at him and looking inordinately smug, but Ukai’s voice on the other side of the net quickly arrested their attention.

“Azumane!

Noya pushed his sweat-soaked fringe out of his eyes as he watched the older boy stand to attention. Ukai was storming towards him. Asahi somehow managed to look frenzied and terrified despite the general air of exhaustion that clung to him.

“Y-Yes, coach?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times to get up immediately after goin’ for a dive! You hang around on the court floor longer than a drunk who’s missed the handrail on a train!”

Takeda jogged after Ukai, his brows knit in concern.

“Ukai, everyone’s worn out, perhaps your tone could be adjusted to fit the situation? And I’m not sure that metaphor—”

“My tone’s fine, Teach!” Ukai snapped, turning back to Asahi and lightly jabbing a finger against his chest. “You take too damn long! If the ball’s in play, you’re on your feet, ready to jump. I don’t care if you had to dive! You’ve got less than a second to pick yourself up again – and I’m gonna time you from here on out! Got it?!”

“Yes! Coach – yes, I got it,” Asahi said quickly, his back ramrod straight but his right knee bent. Almost no weight on it.

Noya winced. Asahi’s leg was shaking. He probably had landed on his knee in that last dive.

“Ah man, he’s gonna have an egg, isn’t he…” Suga muttered, staring at Asahi as well.

“Probably,” Noya said. “Maybe I’ll cut our morning run shorter tomorrow.”

Suga gave him a curious look, but before Noya could explain his and Asahi’s morning run schedule (that had in recent days involved less and less running anyway) Hinata piped up.

“What’s an egg?”

“Bruise you get when you land funny on the inside or outside of your knee. The knee swells up weird. It’s just what we call them,” Suga explained, patting Hinata on the head. “Asahi used to get them a lot before he learned to fall right.”

“He still doesn’t fall right,” Noya muttered, ignoring the bruise on his own hand. “He’s got so much bulk too that when he lands wrong he can seriously injure –”

“He’s not gonna need an amputation from one fall, Noya,” Ryū said, sidling up behind the little group. He clicked his tongue. “Coach is really laying into him though, huh. Yikes – extra training menu, seriously?”

“A quick training camp alone isn’t going to get him back into ace-shape,” Suga sighed. He scratched the back of his neck. “You know how crappy you feel after missing even a week…”

“Ah… yes, that’s true.”

“…Do you think Coach would let me add a few things to that menu?” 

“Noya oh my god.”

“And Asahi thinks I’m the sadistic one in the group,” Suga said, giving Noya an approving grin.

“Asahi’s got mental work to do! That’s the most important part! And no number of squats is going to help that. We need to stress his brain,” Noya protested. He started to jog as Ukai gave a sharp blast of his whistle and bellowed, “Running!”

Ryū snorted quietly, falling into pace with Suga and Noya. 

“Pretty sure Asahi’s just too scared to call Noya a sadist to his face.”

Suga laughed, eyes flashing with amusement.

“Or too smitten.”

Noya stumbled a bit as Ryū cursed and tugged on his T-shirt.

“Ryū – what?”

“Smitten, Suga?” Ryū asked, falling back a bit to give Noya a pointed look. Noya ignored it.

“Yeah, you know – Asahi’s always babbling on about how perfect Nishinoya is,” Suga said lightly, “He gets all flustered when you pay him special attention. You make him nervous.” Yamaguchi in was beginning to flag and fall out of the pack, and Suga gave him a gentle nudge.

“What doesn’t make him nervous, though?” Ryū said, grinning at Noya. “Remember how he yelled when that vending machine started playing an advertisement? I swear to god he was gonna punch it in startled self-defense before Daichi stopped him.”

Noya gave his friend a look to let him know that while he silently agreed with the sentiment and yes that had been hilarious at the time its verbalization wasn’t super appreciated anymore. Ryū eyes flashed with irritation and he threw up his hands in a grandiose gesture of surrender.

“Fine! Fine, I forgot, new rules apply.”

“They aren’t rules just – polite requests,” Noya said, picking up the pace as Ukai blasted his whistle again.

“Polite requests you emailed me.”

“Well yeah.”

“With a formal cover letter.”

“It was supposed to be ironic. Or funny or whatever.”

“And made me memorize.”

“Which clearly didn’t help since – it’s been almost a week and you keep breakin’ all of them!” 

“Because they’re stupid!”

“What the hell are you two talking about…”

Noya glanced over his shoulder at Ennoshita. Ryū did the same before catching Noya’s gaze again, silently asking if it’d be okay. Noya narrowed his eyes. No fucking way was Ennoshita allowed to know. That was polite request number… whichever, he couldn’t remember. It was definitely on the list, though. Asahi had specifically asked him to make sure Ryū didn’t tell anyone. He’d been nervous when he’d asked and while yeah the vending machine thing testing Asahi’s nerves had been funny this hadn’t been the same kind of nervous. More terrified and quiet and extrapolated scenarios where Asahi lost all his friends and became a pariah. Noya had practically been able to see the movie version playing out in the backs of Asahi’s eyeballs.

Noya made his gaze a bit more stubborn and even shook his head. Just in case.

Ryū’s eyes did their weird glowery thing again. But then he shrugged and said a light, “Nothin’, Chikara. You’ll have to ask Noya,” before jogging a bit faster to catch up with Hinata.

Ennoshita pulled even with Noya, glancing curiously at him.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Noya took a break from glaring at the back of Ryū’s head to elbow Ennoshita in the ribs. The little wheezing noise Ennoshita made was worth the shove he got back in return.

“Don’t take your irritation from your divorce proceedings out on me, Nishinoya.”

Noya rubbed his shoulder, glancing up ahead at Ryū again. He was chatting with Hinata. Grinning. Seemed fine.

“We’re not getting divorced,” he said. He picked up the pace as Ukai whistled again. 

“Well – what the hell, why’s Coach in such grandfather-y mood?” Ennoshita muttered, falling silent as they passed Ukai, who bellowed, “If you can talk you’re not runnin’ fast enough! Last spurt!”

Noya dug in his heels a bit more, grabbing Ennoshita’s T-shirt and yanking to force the other boy to keep up.

“Bad memories?” he panted, gesturing subtly to Ukai.

Ennoshita nodded, his face pale as he gasped, “S-Sometimes, yeah.”

They fell silent, focusing on keeping pace with Daichi up ahead. He was surprisingly fast for someone so compact. The ground was starting to feel unsteady underneath Noya’s feet, his legs like they weren’t attached to his body anymore when finally Ukai gave another sharp blast on his whistle and yelled, “Cool down! Excellent work everyone. Don’t cheat on stretchin’!”

Ennoshita groaned softly as he slowed down, scrubbing his forehead with his T-shirt.

“I’m going to puke.”

“Need me to get the bucket?” Noya offered, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

“No don’t – don’t remind me that the puke bucket exists, please, or I really will need it.”

“Okay.”

Noya fell silent as they walked, eavesdropping on Ryū and Hinata’s conversation. Talking about the new drum game the arcade was putting in. A gentle nudge to his side caught his attention again and he glanced up at Ennoshita.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to regret pointing this out, but you really are quiet.”

“Yeah I’m tired,” Noya said honestly. “My legs are doin’ that jelly thing.”

“You get jelly legs.”

“Got ‘em right now. All jelly and like the floor’s made of quicksand.”

“Horrible mixed similes aside, I didn’t think anything made you tired.”

“Lots does.”

“Especially when Tanaka’s not around, huh.”

Noya glanced at Ennoshita, expecting to see another shit-eating grin on his face. But the other boy simply regarded him curiously, calmly. His eyes were very cow-like. Or oxen. Right when it was deciding whether to gore or graze.

Noya shrugged, and opened his mouth to reply, “Not especially,” but a loud burst of laughter from Ryū cut him off. He glanced over at his friend who was clapping Hinata on the back and yelling something about milk coming out of his nose.

“Gross,” Ennoshita muttered, flicking Noya’s arm. “Go reign him in. For one I entrust this task to you.”

Noya saluted at Ennoshita as the other boy jogged off to help Kinoshita stretch. The moment Ennoshita was out of range Noya let his arm fall to his side. Ennoshita was too crafty. Like a super villain in a comic book. Probably was going to figure things out before long. Asahi wasn’t going to like it.

Tanaka and Hinata were still laughing when Noya approached. And when he asked, “What’s so funny?” it was Hinata who exploded into wild detail about the last time Kageyama had gotten banana milk and it had turned out to be spoiled and he’d freaked out and milk had come pouring out of his nose and looked like snot and he’d almost made another first year girl barf it was so gross. Noya started to laugh by the end. And when he felt Ryū lightly ruffle his hair and say, “Mind bein’ Asahi’s stretchin’ partner? I already promised Hinata I’d help him,” he gave his friend a grateful look and said with every ounce of sincerity he could muster, “You are the actual best.” 

Ryū shrugged offhandedly, but his cheeks were a light pink and his gestures a bit too wild to really be the nonchalantness he was going for. “I felt it necessary to make up for my utter assery earlier. Enjoy your stretchings, Mr. Nishinoya.” He gently pushed Noya towards Asahi before letting Hinata tug him off to the other side of the court.

Noya made sure Ryū really was okay with the little switch up (another loud burst of laughter and more hair-ruffling than Hinata probably could stomach confirmed it) before he quickly scanned the gym. He spotted Asahi leaning against the short wall in front of the stage and sprinted over, wincing at Ukai’s yell of, “Does cool down mean nothin’ to you, Nishinoya?!” He brought it back down to a light jog.

Asahi glanced up as he approached. His face was pale. Hair sticking to his forehead.

Noya tilted his head to the side and surveyed the disaster.

“Did you use the bucket?”

Asahi’s brow furrowed.

“Bucket? Wh—oh god. No no. No I forgot it existed and I was so happy,” he mumbled. He sank down to the floor, winced and stretched out his legs, muttering a self-deprecating, “ow,” under his breath.

Noya squatted down to examine Asahi’s knee. Sure enough there was a large, swollen bruise already starting to form on the inside next to the kneecap. He reached out to prod it, but Asahi made a panicked noise and grabbed his hand before he got too close.

“Nishinoya please don’t prod my injuries!”

“It can’t hurt worse than it already does if I just poke it a little,” Noya protested. He wiggled his fingers in Asahi’s grip. “I want to see how bad it is.”

“So see. Don’t touch. Please,” Asahi said wearily, releasing Noya’s fingers. He frowned. “Wait are – you’re my stretch partner? What about Tanaka?”

“He’s helping Hinata,” Noya explained, sitting down in front of Asahi and gesturing for him to bring his legs together so they could get started. “He said I should help you. Because he is a very good friend.”

“…Yeah, he is,” Asahi said. He looked across the gym to where Ryū was stretching with Hinata. A frown tugged at Asahi’s lips. Noya was content to ignored the overt display of cogitation and pushed Asahi’s toes back, stopping only when Asahi winced and mumbled, “Okay right there.”

Noya stopped pushing and held the stretch. He could tell Asahi was still distracted. He tapped his fingers against the bottoms of the older boy’s shoes.

“What?”

Asahi blinked.

“What what.”

“You’re looking at Ryū.”

“Oh – oh, just… thinking. Things,” Asahi said, tugging his hairband out and scrunching his fingers through his sweaty hair. 

Noya sat down and stretched his legs out, rolling his ankles as he waited for Asahi to help him.

“Thinking what kinds of things? Also your hair’s really stringy. How do you deal with it in class?”

“String—okay that’s… maybe please don’t use that adjective about people’s hair,” Asahi mumbled, quickly pulling his hair back again in a messy bun. He pressed his hands against the bottoms of Noya’s shoes and pushed. Not hard enough but Noya didn’t complain. Asahi had always been cautious about over exertion. Now that they had an understanding that sense appeared to be heightened to radioactive-spider-bite levels of acuteness.

“…But it is stringy,” Noya said, raising an eyebrow. “Which makes sense – you get sweaty and have long hair. That’s what happens.”

“…Yeah but – never mind,” Asahi mumbled, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

Noya let out a little frustrated sigh and forced himself to let it go. He was getting better and better about that. Ever since he’d accidentally made Asahi have a panic attack when he’d asked him too many times why he smelled weird one day. Noya still felt badly. Even if he did think Asahi maybe overreacted just a smidge. A big smidge. Zoid sized. Giant robot of insecurity that he wanted to pummel but grudgingly recognized as Asahi’s beast to fight. He could be sidekick, no more.

Unless it got way too bad then all bets were off. He wasn’t a patience saint.

Noya leaned back on his arms, wiggling his toes the bottoms of his shoes again. He could feel Asahi’s palms through the thin-ish rubber.

“So what kinds of things were you thinking about?” he asked again. Hopefully that question was safe.

“I was thinking about you and Tanaka,” Asahi said, sitting down on his heels and turning around to start the next stretch. Noya pushed himself up and pressed against Asahi’s back. For a moment he forgot that conversation was a thing that was supposed to be happening. Asahi’s back had lots of muscles. Even though his shirt was gross and sweaty. He could feel the muscles shifting under his skin. It made the dark little ball of… whatever it was that lodged itself in his gut start to unwind. Leeching poison stuff into his blood that meant that English class next period was going to be a lot of spacing out and indulging in some HD replays of the weekend and Asahi’s house and specifically his room and the ceiling, the beams that criss-crossed across the space. He could see them every time he closed his eyes at night. Like Asahi’s room was building itself behind his eyelids. 

He still didn’t let himself imagine Asahi, though. Felt creepy. Things they’d already done which… still hadn’t really been that much (to Ryū’s obvious relief-and-disappointment ambivalence-combo every time he asked), that stuff was okay. But new stuff or things he’d cautiously started looking at online, that was—

“N-Nishinoya, could you let up a bit?”

“Oh – ah, sh—yeah, my bad,” Noya said quickly, startled out of his exhausted spacing. He’d rested almost all his weight on Asahi’s back. Only okay when he wasn’t spacing out.

“It’s fine, I can… maybe handle it,” Asahi groaned, slowly lying on his back. Noya sat down to finish his stretches on his own. They were running out of time and Asahi looked too tired to move. And Noya had a feeling if he touched him again he might have more of a problem than a bunch of metaphor-for-lust heat wrecking havoc on his emotional intestines.

As he pushed himself up off the floor, he noticed Asahi staring at him, large, brown eyes fixed on his face. His cheeks colored under the scrutiny.

“What?”

“…You’re not going to ask why I was thinking about you and Tanaka? You went silent for a good thirty seconds,” Asahi said, standing up. He grabbed Noya’s hand on the way, helping him to his feet without asking. And the naturalness and instinctiveness of the gesture made Noya’s head go a little dizzy. Or he stood up too fast.

“I’m assumin’ it had to do with him being a good friend or whatever. And you didn’t seem like you wanted to share,” Noya said. He followed Asahi as he headed towards the rest of the group starting tear-down.

“That and… just thinking how much relationships can change with time,” Asahi said, reaching up to unhook the net antenna. Noya held his arms out for it and returned Asahi’s awkward smile with a grin.

“That right?” He bumped his toe against Asahi’s calf. “Any relationship in particular?”

Asahi almost dropped the second antenna. He quickly recovered and let out a little breath before shooting Noya an embarrassed (and slightly irritated) glance.

“…No not. Not that one,” he mumbled, pitching his voice even lower. “And no… insinuating. Things. Remember?”

Noya made a little ‘ah’ noise. “Oh right.” He’d have to look up what insinuating meant again. “So… you meant me and Ryū?”

“Yeah – you two were at each other’s throats constantly the first couple of weeks after you’d met. It was really uncomfortable,” Asahi said, handing Noya the other antenna. “And now that’s not the case and… it’s nice? It’s nice. I think.” He glanced down the court to where Tanaka was helping Daichi with the ball carts. Asahi’s lips pressed together in a frown. Shoulders squaring. Chest broad, like an iron balloon had suddenly swelled up inside of him. Filling all the empty spaces.

“He’ll be able to fit the ace position perfectly. You can just tell.”

Noya twirled the antenna around, his stomach twisting in knots. Not the good sexy kind either. Different sort of poison.

“You look ready to fight,” he pointed out, lightly tapping Asahi’s closed fist with the antenna. “You pissed off?”

The balloon popped.

Asahi immediately shook his head, his shoulders hunching as he took the crank from an exhausted Suga as he passed by. Asahi started lowering the net.

“No! No, the opposite. I’m so relieved I could – I could go for the puke bucket, to be honest,” he said, his voice almost drowned out by the ratcheting noise of pole’s gears. “Next year you guys will still have an amazing team and… and that’s… it’s one less thing to worry about. Among a whole list of… looming next year things.”

“It’s barely this year and you’re worried about next?” Noya asked, quickly stowing the antenna in their cardboard tube so he could help. Ukai was looking ready to yell.

“It’s a big unknown for me…”

Asahi let out a heavy sigh as he folded the net. “You’re lucky,” he mumbled. “You know what you’re doing next year. Barring expulsion…”

“I won’t – I probably won’t be expelled. I’m going to endeavor,” Noya said firmly, shoving the net in the bottom half of the cart Suga had helpfully dragged over.

“You better not get yourself expelled, Mr. Nishinoya,” Suga said, lightly flicking his ear. “Asahi don’t encourage him into expulsion.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Asahi was just talking about next year,” Noya said, rubbing his ear and giving Suga a look. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“I’d say I’m cautiously pessimistic,” Suga said as he helped Asahi hoist the pole onto the cart. “My last mock tests weren’t as stellar as my family would have liked them to be. Such is the burden I must bear.”

“Suga’s parents both graduated from Tōdai so their standards are unreasonably high,” said Asahi. “Don’t trust anything he says about grades. He gets an A and thinks it’s failing because it wasn’t an S—”

“First year me was that bad. But I’m honestly hurt, Asahi, that you haven’t realized how much I’ve lowered my standards over the course of our academic career together,” Suga said, kicking Asahi gently in the back of the knee. “And get Nishinoya to re-teach you how to fall. What if your knee swells up to the size of a watermelon? Take this back to the equipment room, I need to talk to Coach.”

“Freaking out in private instead of public space doesn’t count as lowered standards,” Asahi muttered as Suga jogged off. He rubbed the back of his knee, looking slightly worried.

“It won’t swell up that bad,” Noya promised. He bumped his arm against Asahi’s. “Let’s get this stuff stowed. Class is gonna start soon and if I’m late again I’ll lose what little favor I have with Miss Katayama.”

“Kata—oh.” Asahi blanched as he grabbed the cart. “She’s so… intense.”

“I’d like her if she were doing any other profession. Like baking. Or spelunking.”

“You can remember ‘spelunking’ but not ‘innuendo.’”

“It’s on my potential future careers list—”

“No! No, absolutely not,” Asahi said immediately. He pushed the cart into its corner and turned to fix Nishinoya with a horrified expression. “Nishinoya people die. In caves. And elsewhere obviously that’s – people don’t just go to caves to die.”

“Is he talking about his future career as a cave explorer or as superhero whose hideout is in a cave?” Ryū chimed in as he ducked into the equipment room. “I keep telling him the cave-hideout thing’s probably copyrighted on account of that nocturnal mammal guy.”

“I still don’t know what you mean by that,” Noya muttered, his cheeks coloring when Asahi laughed. Had to add nocturnal mammal to the list of things to look up. Great.

“Aw. Don’t get sulky, you have other talents that aren’t words,” Ryū said soothingly as he rubbed Noya’s back. “We need to book it, though. I’ve got that quiz and if you’re late again it’s no bread-shop privileges for a month.”

“…His teacher is threatening to withhold food from him?” Asahi asked, following Ryū out of the equipment room.

Ryū bent down to gather his things. “It’s the only motivator she’s found. And it’s really—”

He froze as the bell chimed. Across the gym collective groans immediately erupted, followed by Daichi’s bark of, “Don’t panic! We still have time!”

Asahi made a noise like a rodent being stepped on. He quickly grabbed his bag, pausing only to give Noya a weak smile and a quiet, “Good luck today,” before darting off after Suga, who was already halfway out the door.

Noya quickly tugged his shirt up, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead so the underclassman wouldn’t see his dopey grin. Asahi’s smile tended to have that effect on him. Especially when it was natural and not all pinched and perfunctory like he was a member of a dystopian society that had to grin all the time. Noya was getting better and better at spotting the difference. Or Asahi was smiling more. He wasn’t sure which scenario he liked better.

He heard Ryū snort and mutter, “Your boyfriend’s so sweet. Interrupting his regularly-scheduled panic attack to give you a normal person goodbye.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack. That was just rush-hour Asahi,” Noya explained. He lowered his shirt so he could frown at Ryū. “And don’t, man. That word’s not cool at practice.”

“No one knows I’m bein’ serious. Relax. Chikara calls us court husbands all the time and no one bats a fuckin’ eye,” Ryū said, hiking up his bag. It was probably exhaustion that was sucking the color out of him. “I gotta run. See you at lunch? Or are you and Asahi goin’ up to the roof again?”

“No, he’s got a guidance counselor meeting,” Noya said, grabbing his own bag. “Just in case I’m late, pick me up a yakisoba bread? Baseball club’s monopoly ends today.”

“You got it.” Ryū jogged off, catching Ennoshita on the way out. The two of them immediately launched into a conversation, one obviously carried over from some time before. About robots, logistics of using them in Ennoshita’s next film.

Noya rummaged around in his bag as he trailed after them. His fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. He pulled out a notebook, his heart clenching as he recognized the handwriting.

Katayama – English  
Azumane 2C

A little memo, written in hasty, practically kanji-less script.

For note purposes only. Not for copying. I didn’t include any quizzes or test answers and I disavow all knowledge if she catches you with this. Study hard. I’ll see you at afternoon practice. 

Noya smoothed his fingers over the note. The pen had dug in so deeply he could practically read the words with his eyes closed.

His stomach jumped again and he quickly hurried to get changed before class, shoving the notebook back inside his bag. Dumb guidance counselor. Making him miss someone before they were even gone to miss. Dumb Asahi for being so thoughtful. He must have snuck the notebook into his bag after their run. After their run, probably before they’d found that secluded corner and made out for a few minutes. Maybe during. Maybe Asahi really was that 007. Sneaking a notebook into his bag while his tongue was halfway down—

The bell chimed again, and with a loud curse Noya broke into a full sprint. No chance to rinse the sweat off. Next-desk Namakura would just have to deal.

*

Noya propped his chin atop his empty lunchbox and stared at his phone’s black screen. His yakisoba bread was only half-eaten. Stomach was trying to digest itself and fried noodles smothered in mayonnaise weren’t making it feel better for some reason. Ryū kept eyeing the bread during lulls in his argument with Kinoshita over if Goku could beat a hyper-powered Megaman. In a few seconds he was going to ask if he could have it. Noya was torn between “sure” and “what kind of friend are you.”

His stomach twisted again. Needle moved to sure.

“Hey – hey, Noya, so can I –”

Noya wordlessly slid the bread across the desk. Ryū took it with a grateful little moan and crammed the entire remnants in his mouth. Next to him, Narita made a face.

“That why you’re bald? Too much processed food?”

“Hey I’ll have you know the wonderful ladies at the breadery make these fresh daily,” Ryū said around his mouthful. Kinoshita gagged dramatically.

“Your breath smells like mayonnaise.”

“You really should reconsider signing that contract I drew up last week. Filming your first date would make the perfect horror film. And fifteen percent isn’t a bad cut.”

“Fuck off, Chikara, I’m a goddamn gentleman.”

“Powerful rhetoric as always.”

“Okay – okay I told you t’ stop usin’ that word until I can look it up it’s not fair.”

“There’s a dictionary right over there. I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

“You are one smarmy bastard, you know that?”

“Why’re you lookin’ at your phone, Nishinoya?”

Noya blinked as he was addressed and slowly rolled his head to stare up at Kinoshita. The other boy raised a pale eyebrow. Cautiously prodded his face.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“He’s nervous,” Ryū said dismissively, draining half his milk tea. “Waitin’ for a text from his mom.”

“What about?”

Ryū raised an eyebrow and glanced at Noya for permission to continue. 

Noya waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’m bein’ stupid about it anyway.”

Ryū rolled his eyes and muttered, “Got that right,” before saying in a normal voice, “He just asked his mom if he could have a friend over for dinner and a slumber party. Because this is third grade, apparently.”

The other three second years exchanged glances before Narita asked, “You?”

“What? No, not me.”

“Nishinoya’s got other friends?”

Ryū shrugged and said idly, “Guess so.”

A few seconds passed, then a voice way too close.

“…Hey. Nishinoya.”

Noya batted Kinoshita away, muttering, “Don’t whisper in my ear, man. Feels weird.”

“Is it a girl.”

Noya let his forehead rest on the desk, trying to scrub his brain clean.

“No.”

“Are you sure.”

“I think so.”

“Is she cute.”

“It’s not a girl!”

“Then what’s with the drama show?”

“Because my mom is bein’ all weird and impossible an’ takin’ her whole damn lunchbreak just to answer.”

He glanced at the clock. Lunch was almost over. Kinoshita and Narita were speculating who it was. Kiyoko’s name got tossed out. Ryū had a heart attack and bellowed the word no over and over until Ennoshita hit him in the forehead with his chopsticks and told him to cut it out.

His phone buzzed.

Noya immediately grabbed for it, letting out a long sigh of relief as his insides slowly uncoiled. He quickly responded with a polite /Yes I’ll do the dishes and cook, whatever you need THANK YOU/ before turning to Ryū.

“High five me.”

Ryū grinned and gave him an encouraging thumbs up followed by the requested high-five.

“She said yes?” he said, shaking out his hand.

Noya nodded happily, his fingers still tingling and every inch of him wanting to vibrate out of his seat through the roof to the third floor.

“With reservations – you know she’s so weird about people seein’ our ‘unkempt’ house or whatever.”

“Good thing she never comes by our restaurant.”

“Oh she wouldn’t give a shit, guaranteed. It’s only our own house she cares about. I’ve seen her eat a chicken cutlet piece that fell on the ground during a picnic. Didn’t bat an eye. My dad gagged.”

“Ah. Family resemblance finally starting to show.”

“That was a tiny popsicle piece and I rinsed it off and would you let it go it was like ten years ago.”

“Can you two slow down the marital banter so the rest of us can catch up?” Chikara interrupted. “Why’s Nishinoya bouncing like that?”

Ryū rolled his eyes slightly and said, “Asahi’s goin’ over to his house for dinner and slumber party, and his mom’s an anti-germaphobe. That’s all.”

Three sets of curious eyes immediately fixed on Noya. He scowled to hide his flush and said a challenging “What?” Raised an eyebrow for good measure, too.

The other three exchanged glances before bursting into questions.

“Why’s Asahi goin’ over to your house?”

“Asahi? Like – our Azumane Asahi? Seriously?”

“You guys hang out?”

“Yeah – yeah we’re. We’re hangin’ out a lot lately,” Noya said, glancing at the clock again. Ten minutes. “You guys’ve probably noticed, yeah? Like… y’know. He’s good at video games. And uh. Y’know.”

“This is the least coherent I’ve seen you,” Chikara said slowly, “Which really is something exceptional.”

“But Azumane’s like – I mean isn’t he kinda… awkward?” Kinoshita said as he rubbed his neck. “Like he’s super cool on the court but – I probably shouldn’t badmouth the guy. It’s not his fault.”

“Do you guys even have anything in common outside of club?” Narita asked, tilting his head to the side. “He’s never come to karaoke or anything with us before. Even Daichi and Suga have come a couple times.”

“He came once!” Noya protested, the memory a dull remnant from his first year. “He sat in the back and didn’t sing – Daichi tried to get him to do that one Gundam song with him but he uh. Hid. I think. I wasn’t really payin’ attention but he was definitely there. Also what the hell’s with the third degree?”

“’Cause you guys are just – you’re really different,” Kinoshita said. He glanced at Ryū for confirmation. “Like with this idiot it’s kind of obvious why you hang out together—”

“Okay, cruel.”

“—but Asahi’s y’know like… I dunno, grown up or whatever. He’s so – weird. Kinda hard to read.” Kinoshita gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, man, I’m not tryin’ to be a jerk. I’m glad you guys are hanging out. Especially if it means no more dramatic emotional blowups, but… yeah I don’t get it.”

“He’s only ten months older than me,” Noya pointed out, feeling his skin get all prickly as his defenses started to get the better of him. “And he’s really not that weird. Yeah he’s – Ryū, what’s that word?”

“Eccentric.”

“Thanks man, yeah he’s that – he’s ex central but—”

“It’s ‘eccentric,’ Nishinoya.”

“Okay thanks Chikara who asked you would you let me finish?!” Noya snapped, his switch suddenly thrown all the way to irritated. “He’s not weird, okay? That’s the point, the end. He’s good at video games and only a little neurotic and smarter than me – you don’t need to say ‘that doesn’t mean much,’ Chikara, I know you want to but just shove it!”

“I wasn’t going to,” Chikara said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. He was staring curiously at Noya though. As was Kinoshita. And Narita. Ryū was looking off to the side, his lips pressed together in a little frown, fingers toying with the cellophane wrapper from the bread.

“…Then – good. Don’t,” Noya muttered. He crossed his arms as he sat back down. He wasn’t even sure when he’d stood up.

An awkward silence fell over the group before Kinoshita cleared his throat.

“I – sorry, again,” he said, rubbing his arm. “Like I said I wasn’t tryin’ to badmouth the guy. I don’t know him and – like no offense but I didn’t think you did either.”

“Yeah well I do,” Noya mumbled, feeling childish and stupid and irrational. “Not well but – I do. I’m tryin’ to, anyway. Since he’s ex cen – ex—… confusin’.”

He let out a little puff of air as his anger left him in a rush. Kinoshita was right. The three of them didn’t know Asahi. If he was just some weird upperclassman to them, what did it matter. They didn’t have to know him. As long as they were nice to him and didn’t call him weird to his face. And they weren’t jerk enough to do that.

Noya shook his head and grabbed his water bottle, offering Chikara a little grin.

“Yeah – sorry about that,” he said, keeping his voice light. “I like him – he’s really nice and… it’d be cool if other people thought so too. That’s all.”

“He is nice,” Narita offered. The tension left the group as he spoke. “Now that I think about it he’s bought us all ice cream a lot. And he’s really great with how he mentors Hinata. The kid looks up to him so much.”

“Right?” Noya said, latching onto one of his favorite topics. Nice to have an audience that wasn’t Ryū. “Hinata’s gunnin’ for the ace position and I think it scares Asahi a little but he’s still helpin’ him out and—”

The door to the classroom slid open and Ryū muttered, “Speak of the devil” as Asahi poked his head in. Asahi’s eyes scanned the room, lighting up when he spotted Noya. Dulled a bit with panic when he realized he wasn’t alone. 

“Oh – oh, sorry to interrupt,” he stammered, still hovering awkwardly in the doorway. “Nishinoya, I – my meeting ended a little early and – … and you sent… text…”

“Hi, Asahi,” Kinoshita politely interrupted the trailing speech. Chikara and Narita echoed the greeting, Chikara turning to stare curiously at Noya after. Noya ignored him and grabbed his bag and phone.

“Yeah! Yes – Asahi, I need to talk to you for a second. Hallway?”

“Uh – sure, yes – yeah that’s… Hi, everyone. Or bye, I guess,” Asahi said, giving the group an odd look as Noya dragged him away.

“Hey, Noya! What should I do with your change from the bread?” Ryū called out after them.

“Calpis soda from the vending machine? Leave it on my desk!” Noya called back.

He heard Ryū mumble something like, “Why am I always the gopher,” before the door slid shut behind him and Asahi.

He kept a hold of the other boy’s sleeve as he dragged him down the hallway to the fire extinguisher. Mr. Hideguchi liked to yell at students not to loiter around there, which meant the area was relatively deserted. As long as they were quiet. 

Noya crouched down to fish around in his bag.

“So how was your meeting? With the career counselor, yeah?”

“Huh? Oh… you know.” He heard Asahi sigh. “Or maybe you don’t. You probably don’t. The answer is awful. The answer is always awful. You’ll understand next year. That particular brand of anxiety fueled by the void that is your post-high school career…”

“Yeah probably – but here!”

Noya stood up and pressed the package of candy against Asahi’s chest. “Look what I found! They’re soda flavor. Thought they might cheer you up since – well this weekend you got kinda familiar with that flavor in particular.”

Asahi’s face turned bright red, but he turned the small packet over in his large hands. His nose wrinkled a little, lips curling up into a grin.

“Your tongue was like an ice cube,” he said very quietly.

Noya laughed and stuck out his tongue. No longer blue. Or ice cube.

“Yeah, that’s what happens! It was sexy right?”

“It was like making out with a lizard. And keep your voice down. Hideguchi doesn’t like me.”

Noya had to clamp his hands over his mouth to keep from snorting too loudly.

“A lizard. How would you know—”

“Puberty makes your dreams weird. Also please – let’s never speak of this again.”

“Asahi you seriously can’t expect me to believe – a lizard?”

“No, Nishinoya, it’s called hyperbole and it’s the foundation of my awkward, instant-regret brand of humor,” Asahi said dryly. He tore open the package and unwrapped one of the candies. He popped it into his mouth and offered the bag to Noya.

“Here. You’re the connoisseur. And thanks.”

“No problem. Thanks for sharin’,” Noya said cheerfully, unwrapping one as well. He rolled the little candy around his mouth for a bit before deeming the flavor acceptable and focusing on Asahi again.

“So it really was bad? Your meeting?”

Asahi’s shoulders slumped. He nodded.

“Yeah. It’s always bad.”

Noya hummed and clacked the candy against his teeth.

“But you’ll be okay? Because I have something to ask you.”

“…I was going to say yes but now I’m not so sure,” Asahi said. He glanced warily at Noya. “Depends what the question is.”

“Do you want to come over for dinner and spend the night at my house on Saturday?”

Asahi’s eyes widened in surprise. An unsure look flitted across his face before the first hint of an excited, terrified smile tugged at his lips.

“What – seriously?” he asked, his deep voice so quiet Noya had to take a step forward to catch what he was saying. “And your parents—”

“Already cleared it with them,” Noya said. He pulled up the message and showed Asahi. He might continue to fret otherwise. “Well, I cleared it with my mom, who’s the only one who will care. Dad will just get overly excited. He likes having guests.”

Asahi fell quiet, his eyes scanning the text. He stood up straight again and nodded. His expression was hovering between wound up and petrified.

“I’ll have to ask my mom,” he said, obviously thinking aloud. “And make sure she doesn’t need me for anything – we might be dog sitting this weekend so—”

“Bring the dog!” Noya said excitedly. “Bring the dog! I love dogs I never get to play with them—”

“Nishinoya I’m not – your mom probably wouldn’t be too happy about some strange dog –”

The bell chimed, signaling three minutes to classes resuming. Noya groaned and gave Asahi one last hopeful look.

“Dog?”

“…Probably no dog,” said Asahi. He didn’t sound all that sorry. Noya resisted the urge to pinch him. Asahi glanced at his watch and then lightly patted Noya on the shoulder.

“I’ve gotta run – we can talk about this after practice?”

“I’m getting ice cream with Ryū, but yeah, okay,” Noya said, relieved he hadn’t had to coax Asahi into accepting the invitation. “And – oh! Right!” He dug around in his bag again before coming up with Asahi’s notebook.

“Thanks so, so much for this. You really saved me,” he said seriously. “Katayama called on me twice and I managed to sound halfway like I knew what I was talking about. Although I still don’t get what a gerund is.”

“Oh – yeah, no problem. And it’s – I’ll tell you later,” Asahi said. He hugged the notebook to his chest, and then with one last, “See you at practice,” he headed down the hall, taking the steps up to the third level two at a time like an awkward dork. Noya quickly headed back to class as well. He was surprised to see a can of Calpis on his desk, and the little note next to it that read, /Your soda, my liege,/ scrawled in Ryū’s messy handwriting made him grin. He managed to shoot a thank you text off to him before class started up again. Science. Chemistry or whatever.

Noya propped his chin in his hands and stared out the window. He let the rest of the soda candy dissolve on his tongue. A part of him hoped Asahi was doing the same.

*

Saturday morning was extra quiet. A cold, late-spring mist rolled its way down the mountainside like a classy fog machine. Noya had pointed it out several times to Asahi. Who had only nodded and told him to watch the path, please, or he was going to break his neck. Noya had reluctantly obeyed. Still made the occasional dinosaur sound effect though. The scene felt incomplete without them.

Which is why it took him a while to realize Asahi’s lumbering footsteps were no longer trailing after him.

He slowed down and glanced over his shoulder. Asahi was examining something. And not running.

Noya pushed his sweat-soaked fringe off his forehead as he crouched down next to Asahi. The older boy was cradling whatever it was in his palm. Small, orange and round. A brittle, heart-shaped net caging the fruit.

Noya leaned his head against Asahi’s shoulder. He plucked at his sweat-soaked shirt.

“So a hōzuki lantern’s worth stopping for but when I point out fog I’m ‘distracting’ and ‘too loud for five AM’ and ‘going to seriously injure myself’?”

Asahi’s large fingers gently turned the plant over. The lacey net was intact. The fruit was the same color as the sun clawing its way over the mountain ridge behind them.

“Sorry – sorry I know. I think it’s left over from last season. The leaves were protecting it on the side of the path but it caught my eye…”

Noya butted his head against Asahi’s shoulder. Impatient. His legs said run.

“Asahi.”

“I know.”

Asahi’s voice was deep and rumbly. It made Noya’s ribs shake.

“We have three kilometers left.”

“Yeah – sorry I saw it and—”

“Got distracted.”

“—and yes. That.”

Asahi pushed himself out of the dirt, still cradling the delicate plant.

Noya stood as well, watching the way Asahi’s lips crinkled at the edges. How he let his fingertips brush against the delicate little cage. Knowing, gentle touch. As though the web were woven in the pattern of his fingerprints.

Noya pressed his lips together, not wanting to nag but the summit was three kilometers away, the sun was rising and soon there would be people and distractions more than just a dried up plant on the side of the path. They were still in a neighborhood, even. Through the trees Noya could see a few houses. Blue tiled roofs caught the early sun strangely.

“Asahi…” he tried again.

“I know, I know…”

Asahi pinched the stem of the plant between his fingertips. He held it up, and it took Noya a moment to realize the older boy was staring at him through the lace.

Noya furrowed his brow.

“What?”

Asahi’s nose crinkled. Meant he was hiding something. Meant it more when all he said was an evasive, “Orange looks good next to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noya asked, following Asahi to the edge of the path again. Asahi knelt down and carefully placed the lantern plant next to a Jizō statue, in a sheltered spot where it wouldn’t be stepped on.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“With you things always mean something though,” Noya pointed out. Asahi shrugged his broad shoulders, his cheeks a dusted pink as he started jogging again. Noya kept pace, catching glimpses of the other boy’s face as they ran.

“My uniform is orange,” he tried once they’d reached the little shrine halfway up.

“It is.”

“…That’s not what you meant.”

“Not all of what I meant.”

“But some.”

“Some – yeah. I guess.”

Noya fell silent. He felt stupid and shallow for a moment before he brushed it off. Asahi would get like that sometimes. Cagey and dramatic. Suga complained that Asahi had the soul of a mutated Victorian woman. Daichi just called him morose. Which, as it turned out (after a bit of dictionary investigating) did not mean the same thing as moronic. 

Asahi’s cadence was starting to deteriorate. 

Noya jammed a knuckle into the small of Asahi’s back and grinned when the older boy let out a startled yelp.

Noya laughed.

“Half a kilometer left!”

“You’re lying – you always lie to me when we get his high you know I can’t turn back—”

“Three quarters of a kilometer!”

“Why’s it going up?!”

Noya gave Asahi’s spine one last friendly jab for good measure. The trees were glowing orange and red around them. Fog was lifting off of their skin, disappearing into the dark parts of the forest where there were no blue tile roofs, no Jizō statues, no lanterns. 

Maybe someday they’d leave the path. Follow the fog until it was truly spirited away. Might be something back there. Something he’d missed as a kid and didn’t have an Asahi to push deeper into the woods for sport.

“N-Nishinoya – in a-all… seriousness… how much farther?”

Noya reached up and clapped Asahi on the shoulder, forgetting about the fog and mountains for a moment.

“In all seriousness, about two kilometers.”

Asahi’s mouth was set in a grim line. Quiet time, then.

Noya lowered his pace slightly to let Asahi stay abreast of him. Through the trees he could hear the temple gong. Six o’clock. What six o’clock meant to a monk he didn’t know. Breakfast, maybe. Meditation, probably. The courtyard would still be clear. The fence, the gravel path. The four little muddy spots at the edge of the overhang that perfectly fit the soles of their shoes. Apparently the monks didn’t feel the need to rake the gravel that close to the precipice.

They made the last turn up the switchback, Asahi’s shoes slipping in the spring mud. Noya quickly grabbed his wrist. He held on tightly as he picked his way through the roots, their barky skin worn away from years of shoes and mud and rocks raking at them.

Noya felt Asahi trip, heard the muffled curse, felt the sudden weight against his arm. He barely had time to turn around before the bulk of Asahi’s weight was against him. He braced his hands against the older boy’s chest to keep him upright, shoe sinking deep into the mud. 

Asahi’s shirt was damp against his palms.His breath tugged at the soft hairs on the side of Noya’s face. Minty from toothpaste. 

For a moment Noya wanted to lean up. Bump his nose against Asahi’s. Kiss him, maybe, even though he was disgusting they were both disgusting, maybe their dual grossness would cancel each other’s out. But there was mud in his shoe and trees and sky and monks somewhere off behind him being all pious and Asahi looked ready to pass out. It made Noya have little guilt pains in his stomach. Taking advantage of the situation. He didn’t want that.

Instead he lightly pushed against Asahi’s chest, and Asahi blinked. Too tired to be surprised or comical. Sweat was clinging to every inch of him. His eyelashes, nose. The bits of patchy stubble around his jaw.

“…Thank you, Nishinoya.”

“You’re welcome, Azumane.”

“I could have slipped. And maybe died.”

Noya didn’t move. Asahi was heavy – he was so heavy his weight was slowly grinding Noya’s wrist bones into flour.

“You’d probably just get concussed at worst. But you’re still welcome.”

“I’m very tired.”

“Asahi you weigh about three of me.”

“I should move.”

“It’s either that or I end up crushed beneath you in a few seconds here.”

“I should really move.”

Asahi stood up straight and shuffled towards the top of the path where the first few pebbles had escaped the gravel courtyard. He made his way over to their spot by the fence and slowly and deliberately lay face down. He didn’t stir.

Noya jogged after him and slid into the space between Asahi’s prone body at the fence post. A few tiny shards of gravel wedged themselves into his skin. He picked them out, kicked the mud off his shoe as much as he could.

Asahi still hadn’t moved.

Noya reached out and poked Asahi’s thigh. Just below the edge of his shorts.

Asahi shuddered and rolled over enough to give Noya a baleful look.

“You’re poking me.”

“Are you actually dying?” Noya asked, not sure if he should be concerned or not.

Asahi grunted as he sat up, propping his chin on the lower rung of the fence. 

“No. But you pushed me really hard today.”

“And our time was pretty good,” Noya said encouragingly. He elbowed Asahi in the side. “Even with you stopping to pick up bits of nature.”

Asahi’s fingers curled against his palm. He was probably remembering the little lantern.

“They’re some of my favorites.”

Noya hummed.

“Hōzuki?”

“Yeah… yeah we. In our garden, we have some. Mom likes them too…”

“If you have them in your garden why were you starin’ at that one?” Noya asked. He tossed a few pieces of gravel over the edge to see where they’d land. 

“I… hm.”

“Asahi.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the only person I know that actually says ‘hm’ aloud.”

“It’s… it can’t be that uncommon.”

“Only one.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay. Clues me in that you’re thinkin’ about somethin’.”

Asahi stretched his arms out over the middle rung of the fence as he muttered, “Amazing I’m not saying ‘hm’ all the time, then.”

Noya snorted, knocking his knee against Asahi’s.

“You can’t expect me to believe you’re thinkin’ all the time.”

“…More or less.”

Asahi didn’t sound happy about it.

“…Man I wish I could think more,” Noya said, when it didn’t seem like Asahi was going to break the silence. “So like – when you were lookin’ at the hōzuki lantern. You were thinkin’ stuff?”

Asahi nodded. His large fingers drummed against his knee.

“…What were you thinkin’?” Noya pressed.

“It’s embarrassing,” Asahi muttered.

“Can’t be that bad.”

“It’s dumb.”

“…Asahi—”

“Fine! God – fine it’s not dumb. It’s. Asinine.”

“I think that’s just a fancy word for dumb.”

Asahi made a frustrated noise and rubbed his hand over his face. Noya let him be quiet for a while, enjoying the warmth of the early spring sun at his back. The valley was pretty. There was probably a better word for it than that. Something Asahi would have thought of since he was thinking constantly. Had to mean he knew lots of words. Thinking the same ones would get boring.

“I was thinking,” Asahi said suddenly, “I was thinking that it. The lantern. Reminded me of. This.”

Asahi waved his hand awkwardly between them.

Noya tried to follow the movement.

“…The air?”

“Wh—no.”

“Gravel.”

“No.”

“Monastic life.”

“No! No – of. Of our. Relationship.”

Asahi said the last word as though it were somehow obscene.

Noya thought of the little lantern plant. He scrunched up his nose.

“I don’t get it.”

“That’s because it’s dum—ow! Okay you hit way too hard that time!”

“You hit your ‘dumb’ quota for the week yesterday! You gotta repent!” Noya insisted, brandishing his fingers again. “And I just jabbed your ribs. You’re really gonna have trouble with Suzu tonight if you think that was bad.”

A look of fear crossed Asahi’s face.

“Why – why. Why? What does she do? Nishinoya I’m bad with kids – They always want to crawl all over me and make me give them rides and I hate it it’s just like with cats they somehow know I’m allergic…”

“She’s seven she’s not a – she’s a kid. But she’s smart for one,” Noya said proudly. “… She is a hair puller, though. And when she was younger she’d bite. Both for defensive purposes and to show affection.”

“Oh god.”

“She doesn’t anymore! It’ll be fine.”

Asahi groaned and rested his head against the fence.

“I don’t want to.”

“To what?”

“Meet. Anyone new. For a while.”

“Oh. Well, too bad. You’re coming over tonight. I like your house but it’s far away and my mom’s gettin’ kind of ticked I’m spendin’ so much on train fare.”

Asahi’s large hands twisted in his lap.

“I – I could offset the cost or… apologize or –”

“You guys feed me so it pretty much pays for itself. Don’t worry about it. I’m not,” Noya said. He leaned over to rest against Asahi. The older boy was starting to get twitchy and flighty. Meant it’d be a good idea to pin him down a bit more.

Asahi just mumbled something Noya couldn’t quite catch. Noya let it go.

They sat in silence until the bell rang again. Asahi shuddered, pushed himself to his feet, and offered Noya a hand.

“Time to go.”

Noya let himself be hoisted to his feet, shaking gravel off the backs of his legs. He threaded his fingers through Asahi’s and laughed when the older boy got all flustered and glanced nervously towards the monastery.

“Asahi, they don’t care.”

“You can’t know that…”

“They can’t even see. It’s all right.”

Asahi looked like he wanted to protest – Noya could feel his hand getting sweaty with nerves – so he said a bit more firmly, “Asahi, they don’t care.”

For a moment Asahi looked put-out, but he finally shook his head and mumbled, “Until the main road,” which was his usual capitulation. Noya bumped his hip against Asahi’s in thanks. Despite his posturing (well, half posturing) he relaxed a lot more once they were in the forest proper again. The birds were reaching obnoxious levels of tweeting. The woods were waking up.

They picked their way down the path, talking quietly about club, school, the newest Street Fighter Asahi was excited about. Voices hush hush to not disturb anything.

As they passed the lone Jizō statue, Noya remembered the little lantern.

He tugged on Asahi’s hand.

“You never finished tellin’ me about the hōzuki.”

“…I was sort of hoping you’d forget.”

“My memory’s only good when it comes to stuff like this.”

“Figures.”

“So?”

“Mmph.”

“Asahi, c’mon. I won’t laugh.”

“It really isn’t – it’s not even laughter worthy. It’s nothing,” Asahi mumbled. He had a thoughtful look on his face that let Noya know he should stay quiet. Let Asahi continue.

Asahi let go of his hand, but before Noya could protest Asahi started talking, his palms, his fingers carefully sketching out the little plant as he spoke. Unconsciously, most likely. He gestured a lot when he was passionate about something. Passionate even in the quiet way it could be sometimes, which before Asahi was a facet in his reality Noya would have denied ever existed. Passion, he’d thought, was meant to be loud. It was yelling and blood and explosions in action movies, big, bigger than life could convey, eruptions between ribs. Now it was that, too, it was still very that big, bigger thing. But it was also Asahi’s hands. Carving out wispy shapes in the air. The cadence of speech, stuttering to express with a few puffs of air the sorts of things that built quiet worlds inside a head.

Asahi spoke. His hands still moved.

“So… the little orange. Fruit or whatever it is in the middle,” Asahi said. “That’s – it’s very. Sunny. And solid. And sturdy compared to everything else, right?”

Noya nodded, watching Asahi’s hands as they curled together, forming a little ball. He jumped when Asahi pressed them his chest and offered him a weak smile.

Noya furrowed his brow, not really understanding before it clicked. He cleared his throat, his stomach doing that weird flippy thing it did whenever Asahi complimented him. Even in a confusing, roundabout metaphorical way.

“All right so – not just because my jersey’s orange,” he mumbled.

“Not just because,” Asahi said, his cheeks pink. “But… I don’t know. It just… sort of struck me. And then the web – when the leaves are all dried up and it’s just the lacey stuff left.” His fingers locked together, forming a weave pattern as he spoke. “It’s really brittle and… and it crumbles kind of easily but it still, um… y-you know. Wants… wants to do its job. And… um… be. Be around. The fruit.”

Noya tilted his head to the side.

“…So my defense is bad?”

“…Not… no. It’s – uh.”

Asahi rubbed the back of his neck and then shook his head.

“I was – identifying a little bit with it. I guess. Because like I said it’s fragile and – but when it’s not all desiccated but is a proper leaf the little… the fruit inside, when you hold the plant up it colors the insides of the leaves orange and… and really makes it look… like a lantern. And, um. Glow. So.”

Asahi trailed off and lowered his hands until they were no longer a fruit. No longer a lace. He cleared his throat.

“Like I said it’s – fanciful. Is that an okay word?”

“What’s it mean?” Noya asked, still a bit lost.

“…Bizarre. I guess.”

“…Borderline but I’ll accept it.”

Asahi gave a little roll of his eyes and mumbled, “You’re a really strict word police, you know that.”

“I know. Sorry you have to define so many things for me.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“How do you know so many?”

“I read a lot as a kid.”

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

Asahi fell quiet, and Noya followed suite, trying to piece together what Asahi had said. They arrived at the main road and to his surprise Asahi lightly pushed his shoulder and coaxed him into a jog. It cut down their time to the station by half, but still when they reached their lockers the station was starting to get crowded. Asahi crouched down, shucking off his shirt to quickly change into something less soaked.

Noya hoisted his school bag onto his shoulder and waited for Asahi. He was about ready to give in and just ask Asahi to explain the whole elaborate metaphor or whatever when he happened to catch sight of the back of Asahi’s neck. The fine, delicate hairs there were stuck to his skin. Like a spider web. Or a net. Lace. It made it look like there were cracks in Asahi. Noya could see the jut of his spine. His hunched shoulders before they were covered by a clean white T-shirt.

Asahi stood up with a little grunt, his face still shiny until he rubbed it with a towel he shoved in his bag.

“All right, I think… I think I’m fit for the presence of other humans,” he said, glancing down at Noya. “Do I look okay?”

“You think you’re like that lacey stuff. On the hōzuki, that protects the fruit. Right?” Noya said immediately, proud he’d figured it out. Prouder still when Asahi’s cheeks turned red and he gave a little nod.

“Like I said, it’s – it’s fanciful,” he mumbled, high-tailing it to the barrier with Noya on his heels.

“No I like it!” Noya insisted. “Although you know I don’t think you’re that delicate or whatever – I mean…” He slugged Asahi in the bicep for good measure, laughing when the older boy let out an anguished wail of, “Nishinoya!”

Asahi was still rubbing at his bicep as they ascended the stairs to the platform. He gave Noya a withering look.

“Was that necessary?”

“You think you’re weak lacey whatever! Clearly not the case.”

“I meant mentally – mentally, god… fourth punch this morning…”

“You’re fine. Suga’s worse.”

“Yeah but Suga’s not my b—my. My you. Person,” Asahi mumbled. “…Although I don’t really mind. Actually. Please don’t feel badly.”

“I don’t,” Noya said absently. Tiptoes, craning his neck to see when the train was arriving. “I know if you were actually mad you’d tell me to cut it out.”

“…I might.”

“You have before.”

“…I would definitely, then.”

Noya just grinned and drew a little line in the air. Point for him. He laughed when Asahi reached out to ‘erase’ it.

The train pulled into the station and they got on, huddling in a corner since they were both still pretty disgusting. Noya hummed under his breath as he watched the familiar scenery fly by.

“You know, Asahi.”

“Yeah?”

“You tell stories a lot.”

“…I do?”

“Yeah, like that one just now. About the hōzuki lantern.”

“That wasn’t… I don’t think that was a story.”

Noya gave Asahi a curious look.

“Yeah it was. I mean – you read our whole… us into a little plant? Normally people don’t do that. Or if they do they don’t like. Indulge the idea, you know? And with my gloves and then when we were on the bullet train you told me about those ruins you found as a kid… you talk like you’re writing a book.”

Asahi looked uncomfortable. His chest was caving in on itself. Eyes darting like scared deers.

“…I guess it’s a little. Weird or whatever. Sorry. I can keep that stuff to myself.”

“No that’s not what I meant – it’s a cool weird,” Noya offered. He tugged subtly on Asahi’s shirt. “You still don’t know what you’re doin’ next year, right?”

Asahi’s expression fell. He slowly shook his head and said quietly, “No. And those meetings – none of them help. The opposite, actually…”

“Have you thought about tryin’ to be a writer?” Noya asked. “You could do like – with your photography and stuff. You could do a book. Like if you’d taken a picture of the hōzuki you could write about identifyin’ with the lacey stuff or whatever. That seems like somethin’ people would like. Y’know, artsy people.”

“Artsy... yeah I know the type,” Asahi said. He didn’t sound enthusiastic. “I guess I have the hair for being artsy. Half of my mom’s writer friends look all… disheveled and stuff. Although that wasn’t really what I was going for…”

“Oh right! And your mom writes – she could help you,” Noya said, latching onto the idea. “It’d be kind of cool. And you’d still have time to come to our practices and stuff – maybe Ukai would let you be an assistant coach?”

Asahi snorted and quickly hooked his finger into Noya’s shirt sleeve to keep him upright as the train came to a stop at their station.

“I’m not good enough to coach. C’mon, we’re a little late.”

He ducked out of the train car and Noya followed.

“We both know you’re not really the one to judge that. But wouldn’t it be neat?” Noya said, waving at Daichi when he spotted him zombying his way down the stairs.

“I guess. I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Asahi mumbled. He fell quiet as Daichi shuffled over.

“Morning, Nishinoya.”

“Good morning!”

“I don’t get a greeting?”

“You looked pensive. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Asahi pursed his lips in a little frown. Whatever pensive meant, probably wasn’t great.

Noya ignored his slight irritation and chatted with Daichi about the Brazil versus US game Ukai had made them both watch. Daichi woke up a bit, and by the time they reached the school he was talking animatedly about new defensive strategies. 

As they entered the gym, Asahi lightly touched Noya’s shoulder and said, “I’m going to warm up with Suga,” before jogging over to where the other third year was slumped against the wall, no doubt struggling to stay awake.

Noya found himself rubbing his shoulder, realizing that they hadn’t had any extra time to make out on top of the mountain like they usually did. Maybe Asahi was feeling a bit worked up – he looked kind of irritated talking to Suga. Or maybe it was just the greeting punch Suga had given him. Asahi really was ripe for punching. Something about how solidly he was built or –

“Nishinoya?”

“Huh?”

Noya glanced up at Daichi who was looking a little concerned. The captain raised an eyebrow.

“Tired?”

“Oh – no, not tired. Just – thinking? Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Hoo boy.” Daichi ran his fingers through his short hair before clapping Noya on the other shoulder. “Don’t let Asahi rub off on you too much, okay? Coach’ll be here soon, I’ll help Tanaka with the net. Can you take the first years through their warm up?”

Noya nodded and with a little salute jogged over to the side of the gym to dump his stuff. He could hear Asahi’s voice, tired and resigned, and it took everything he had not to run over and insist on having a partial re-do on the day. Maybe take back a couple punches.

Not an option. Unfortunately.

Noya straightened up and turned around to face his four charges. Only Hinata looked happy to see him. Kageyama wore an expression that was borderline murderous. Tsukishima’s narrow, steely gaze hinted that he was already well-seasoned in the act. Yamaguchi was half asleep.

Noya grinned and clapped his hands together.

“Right! Wall-sits to start! Four minutes, should be easy enough!”

The collective groans banished all thoughts of the mountain, the hōzuki, next year from his mind.

*

Noya grunted as he felt the sharp point of Ryū’s chin dig into his skull.  
“Your jawbone must have a vendetta against me. It’s trying to get to my brain.”

“Don’t worry. It wouldn’t know what to do with it once it got it,” Ryū said tiredly. He slid off to the side to flop pathetically on the floor. His head rested on Noya’s thigh and he let out a low groan.

“Noya tell me I’m to live.”

“You’ll live,” Noya promised. He patted Ryū’s head and made a face. “I can feel your skull bones. Speaking of which.”

“’m sexy skull bones,” Ryū mumbled, his eyes closing. “Think – d’you think Kiyoko has sexy skull bones.”

“Every bone of hers is probably sexy. Even the little ones that wiggle in your ear. And look like a cowboy stirrup.”

“Yeah…” Ryū seemed pleased at the affirmation. “Yeah she’s – she’s got. Perfection. So even little ears are… delight.”

“Ryū, that’s not a sentence,” Noya said patiently.

“Sexy bones…”

“Yeah okay.”

Noya leaned to the side and rested against the wall as he watched the rest of the team gather their things. Practice had been especially rough, and he had sequestered himself off to the side to get his bearings. Ryū had followed, which was allowed. They didn’t have any practice matches coming up which in Ukai terms meant suffering was permissible. Encouraged, even. They’d have time to recover.

Noya twitched as his shoulder protested the sudden weight against it. There had been one fall he hadn’t caught properly. His shoulder was going to ache, he could tell. 

Ryū let out a little grunt as he pushed himself up. He glanced at Noya over his shoulder, frowning.

“You’re makin’ your hurt noises. What’s up?”

“Shoulder. Landed funny,” Noya explained. His good arm gestured to the offending area. 

Ryū clicked his tongue in sympathy.

“Shit. You wanna stop by the baths on the way home or somethin’? Your mom’s still not lettin’ you guys fill up the tub at home, right?”

“She just gave us the okay again – although Suzu didn’t listen the first time and brought more tadpoles in and we ended up hiding them in jars under her bed. mom found them in like point two seconds though.” Noya grimaced at the reminder. His ears were still ringing from the shrieking the zealous science project had brought upon the household. “And I’d be totally on board except—”

Ryū made a little ‘ah’ noise and glanced across the gym to where Asahi was talking with Hinata.

“Right. The big gay sleepover. Trademark Ryūnosuke Tanaka, all rights reserved. Maybe he can help you work out some of your kinks.”

“Don’t be gross. And I’m still not payin’ you.”

“Does ‘all rights reserved’ mean nothin’ in this friendship.”

“I told you we could still head to the mart after practice as long as we don’t take too long. Isn’t that payment enough?” Noya asked, prodding Ryū in the stomach. “Sorry for the quick but Mom needs us to pick up things for dinner.”

“Nah, you’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll make you submit to my trademark another time. And whoa, seriously? She gonna try cookin’ again?”

“Nah, we’re buyin’ side dishes at the grocery store. Ordering pizza or something as the main thing.”

“Pizza… lucky.” Ryū sighed dramatically as he shoved his kneepads into his bag. “We’ve got a huge excess of halibut at the restaurant. I’m so fuckin’ sick of it but it’s not good enough to serve to the customers, not bad enough to throw out to the cats. So it’s been festerin’ in our fridge upstairs for like a week now with us pickin’ at it.”

Noya made a quiet noise of sympathy and stood to pat Ryū’s head again. His skull bones really were weird. Hair fuzzy like moss.

“I’d bring you pizza if I could.”

“Yeah… yeah.”

Ryū let out another little breath. His brows furrowed and he glanced off towards the court, his shoulders back. Noya studied his friend, taking in the comfortable silence between them. For a moment, though, it was like Ryū was on the other side of the net. Just before a serve. Tense, ready to push every muscle in his body to respond to attacking stimuli. Noya followed Ryū’s gaze. He was looking across the court to where Kageyama was speaking with Asahi. They were reviewing the new hand signs they’d started using. Asahi must have said something that flustered Kageyama because his arms were gesturing wildly in the air and his loud voice was making the slack net shake against the poles. Asahi just looked bemused. Patient. Waited until Kageyama was done before starting to speak again.

He seemed to have things under control.

Noya turned his attention back to Ryū. He didn’t appear to notice. Noya continued to stare, content to wait. Let his mind wander.

Ryū really had gotten taller since their first year. He was muscular, athletic. Intimidating if you only saw him as a stranger or opponent. But the best thing was that he wasn’t that – he went to the gym and ran on the treadmill and lifted weights while listening to crappy idol music and singing along. He dropped dishes when there were cute girls at the restaurant and was too shy to talk to them, never believed Noya when he said they were giggling about him. Positive giggles. He gave the first years his free donut coupons, held the door open for Kiyoko when she brought in water bottles. Stood awkwardly but supportively by the next time she brought in water bottles because she’d informed him she could open the door herself, thanks. He kept Noya’s secrets, sacrificed time and he could’ve been the one spending the night, eating pizza and instead he was going home to a busy restaurant and week-old halibut. Zero complaining.

Noya felt a sudden, nearly overwhelming swell of pride. He tugged on Ryū’s sleeve, and when his friend gave him an inquisitive look he said very firmly, “You’re my best friend.”

Ryū blinked. His cheeks slowly turned red and he stammered for a moment before managing to get out, “What the hell – where did that come from?”

“I had to say it – because you’re awesome and tall and have donut coupons. Temporary ones that – you’re generous. That’s what I’m tryin’ to say. With your coupons and time. And bein’ cool with all this when… You’re the only one that’s been over to my house so… it’s weird and I wanted to say it. Maybe ‘cause I’m feelin’ guilty or nervous and you’re like – bein’ really cool about all this stuff. All the changes and I know I haven’t been great at sayin’ it lately so—”

He felt a pressure against his head. Ryū’s hand. Mussing up his hair. When he looked up he saw that Ryū’s face was red too, his eyes averted. He mumbled something and Noya had to jab him in the stomach to get him to say it again.

“What?”

“God – not so hard,” Ryū muttered, rubbing at his stomach. “I said that – that it’s not that hard to do because you make it easy to put up with stuff. Like – nothin’ phases you so I feel like I should be the same. Y’know? You adapt and – some shit’s a huge, huge deal and there’s changes and stuff but then you recover two seconds later and it’s like nothin’s different ‘cause you remake yourself to fit the new shape of your world or – or somethin’ less dramatic and… dumb soundin’. And I can’t do it as easily but I… I try. ‘Cause you’re my best friend too.” Ryū trailed off and cast him a pitiful look. “Don’t make me try and articulate shit, man. I’m not Takeda or Asahi or… who else is good with words. Suga, in his more dramatic moments I guess.”

“You don’t have to be like Asahi,” Noya said. He head-butted Ryū’s hand. “And as best friend I need you to tell me not to be a nervous geek about Asahi meetin’ my family.”

“Noya I would never call you a geek,” Ryū said, his voice serious. “You aren’t smart enough to be one.”

“Then tell me not to be nervous without the friendly insult.” Noya tugged on Ryū’s bag strap. “Come on – the more I fake freak myself out about this the more actual freaked out I get. So – some encouragement –”

“Asahi seems like the kind of guy who knows how to put parents at ease by virtue of his being a gigantic, wet towel of a person,” Ryū said, not unkindly. “Your parents are cool people who will like him because he is very nice to you. And also because I’m assumin’ they’ve no idea you’ve been suckin’ face for the past month.”

“Zero idea.”

“And you’re plannin’ on keepin’ it that way.”

“For the time bein’. See my plan – and it’s a really good one – my plan is to make them like him a lot first. And then you know. With the whole bisexual son conversation.” Noya gestured grandly to himself. “Think they’ll be less likely to spring a gasket if they know that Asahi’s all responsible and makin’ me a better person and every day I like him more and so on and so on, all that garbage.”

Ryū gave him an odd look. His cheeks were slightly pink again, and when he stood up his hand moved to rub at his arm. Meant he was unsure about something.

“That’s – …that true?”

Noya grabbed his bag and glanced at his friend, tilting his head to the side.

“Is what true?”

“That he like – you wanna be a better person because of him or… that. Like…” Ryū gestured helplessly, his long fingers scrabbling at the air. He suddenly lowered his hands, as though he’d been struck by something. He glanced down at Noya.

“…This is really serious to you, isn’t it. Bein’ with Asahi.”

There was a note of incredulous wonder to his tone. With a side of wariness. 

Noya forced himself to stop and regard the question. Ryū’s goofy expression was nowhere to be found. That had been a big revelation for him. And with a little start Noya realized it might be one for him too. One he was suddenly and comfortably confident in.

He nodded and stretched his arms over his head.

“Yeah, pretty sure I am,” he said. He glanced across the court at Asahi to confirm. His chest tightened. Trepidation about tonight. Pride in how Asahi was interacting with the first years. Exasperation that he’d missed a really great set earlier. Everything complicated. Everything strong. His new normal that pushed him out of bed every morning. Purpose. Maybe that’s what people would call it.

Noya tore his gaze away and glanced at Ryū again. He offered his friend a grin.

“I mean, it makes sense, right? Why else would I have freaked out so bad in the beginning, why else would be nervous about tonight– nervous enough to mess up practice, you saw how awful I fucked up a couple times.”

Ryū shook his head.

“I really didn’t. You seemed fine.” He frowned. “You’ve seemed fine.”

He didn’t sound as confident about that second part.

Noya rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on. That one serve of Tsukishima’s? I should’ve gotten that. Totally spaced— it was ridiculous though how late Asahi was with that block. He seriously needs to get back into shape or—”

“Hey just – one second, can we go back to that?”

A hand on Noya’s arm made him stop. He turned to face Ryū. His friend’s brows were knit.

“Noya – are you… I mean. Asahi’s… kind of.” Ryū sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “He can flake. And I don’t mean about blocking. And don’t – don’t get mad and defend him, he’s flaked before there’s flake precedent. And it’s – if you’re serious or whatever that’s great, you know your relationship better than I do which I thank god and the Buddha for that every day but like…”

Ryū lowered his hand, and when he glanced across the court towards Asahi again his jaw was set.

“Last time he ran away from something you guys weren’t even really friends, let alone serious about anythin’ outside of club. And I still didn’t see you for a month.”

Noya felt a spike of irritation lodge itself in his chest.

“Yeah, and?” he said. “I got him to come back. He leaves again it’ll be the same thing.”

“So you’ll just nope out of existence too until you can convince him that he’s wrong? Again?” Ryū asked. His voice was starting to tighten. “And I’m not talkin’ about him leavin’ the team, I’m talkin’ about him pullin’ some stupid stunt involvin’ the two of you when you’re all invested and shit—”

“What the fuck – where’s this comin’ from?” Noya said. He had to struggle to keep his voice down. “He’s not gonna break up with me if we lose a game or somethin’.”

“Jesus Christ Noya can you stop thinkin’ in club terms for just one second?” Ryū snapped. “This is what I was worried about when you first told me – What if he’s not as into you? What if this isn’t as serious a thing to him – okay fuck, fine, back to club talk. You know you take it more seriously than he does—”

“That’s not true—”

“—well you did back then! Quittin’ for you was a big thing, you got suspended over the guy and—look I just… ah, fuck…”

Ryū ran his hand down his face again. The fight was bleeding out of his posture. When he spoke next his voice was subdued.

“I’m just worried. Okay,” he said. “Let me be worried about you. You’re right that I don’t know what your relationship’s like but I know you pretty well by now and you… fuck, Noya, you put all your emotional eggs into one flimsy basket and I’m just not nice enough a guy to trust that Asahi won’t drop the ball again. It’s shitty of me but I can’t– I can’t help it.”

Noya clenched his fists. It was a fight to keep his temper. Ryū didn’t know Asahi, that was true. Truer with every word he said.

“Asahi won’t drop the ball. Or the eggs or – throw another droppin’ metaphor in there. He won’t,” Noya said. His voice left no room for argument.

Ryū lifted his eyes. He looked on the edge of saying something. Constantly changing his mind. He finally spoke.

“You can’t know that for sure.”

“Yes I can,” Noya said immediately. “I can and I do.”

“No you – you fuckin’ can’t, okay?” Ryū was suddenly animated again. “You idealize people! You idealize them and then when they don’t meet your ridiculously high standards you get irritated or upset and it makes us mere mortals feel like losers! And Asahi’s the most mortal-y of all – it’s gonna happen again and you’re clearly more invested than even you realize and how can you possibly know—you know what, I—… dammit.” He made a frustrated noise and scrubbed furiously at his buzzed hair, falling silent.

Noya didn’t know what to say. Ryū looked upset. It was a rare expression. Completely foreign to the guy he’d been admiring a few seconds ago. From across the court Chikara was glancing towards them, worried. Ryū’s last outburst had carried a little. Not enough to distract those who didn’t know him. He was often loud. But enough to tip off someone like Chikara. Attuned as he was to their various idiosyncrasies and idiocies.

Ryū sighed, catching Noya’s attention again. Ryū lifted his head. There was a small smile on his face. Forced.

“Sorry, man. I… I know I’m bein’ a dick. That month was hard on all of us and – yeah I should be over it by now, but –”

“You don’t trust Asahi,” Noya interrupted. “That’s all it is.”

“No I do – Asahi’s a cool guy, that’s not what I’m sayin’.” 

“Then you don’t trust him as much as I do. Which pretty much means the same thing.”

Ryū’s eye twitched.

“Noya I don’t think Asahi’s own mother trusts him as much as you do. You’re blind when it comes to the guy and you know it.”

“No I’m not – I’m not that dumb, Ryū,” Noya said. “I know what I’m doin’ and so does he—”

“Now I know that’s a lie.”

“Would you just let me finish talkin’?!”

Noya grabbed Ryū’s arm and gave him a little shake. Ryū mumbled a pathetic “ow” but didn’t protest the manhandling.

“Look,” Noya said firmly, “I’m not goin’ anywhere. When we got together we talked about, y’know. Not royally fuckin’ the team over if somethin’ should happen. And that includes me pullin’ any kind of leavin’ stunt again.” Noya made a face. “Asahi bein’ who he is brought that possibility up on like. The second day of our goin’ out. Which was fun.”

“…God he would though,” Ryū said. His lips quirked up in a tired smile. This one real, although it was short-lived.

“So you’re not gonna leave if seriousness sours.”

Noya shook his head. 

“No.” He pointed to his elbow where a huge floor burn had torn its way across his arm. “And I’ve left so much skin on this court you could build another one of me even if I did.”

Ryū let out a little laugh. His shoulders relaxed.

“That is very gross,” he said solemnly. “But also duly noted.”

“Good.”

Noya lowered his arm.

“So we’re done?”

“Done?”

“Fightin’.”

“Oh – yeah. Please.” Ryū tensed as he spotted something over Noya’s shoulder. “Especially because – hey, Asahi. Good work today.”

“You too, Tanaka,” Asahi said as he approached them. He glanced at Noya, his brows knit together. “Is everything all right? Ennoshita said I should come over to diffuse your little… impotent squabble. Were his exact words, I believe.”

“Yeah we’re fine,” Ryū said. He picked up his bag and fluffed Noya’s hair again. “You be good this weekend, okay? And Asahi—” He turned to clap the older boy on the shoulder as he said seriously, “You take care of my boy, you hear?”

“…What?” Asahi said weakly. “I – yes? I’m… going over to his house, though, so wouldn’t it be him taking care of m—w-wait do you know that already? The house visit?”

“I know many things,” Ryū said. He grinned when Noya held back a laugh and held out his hand for a high-five. “We still on for Sunday evenin’?”

“’Course,” Noya said. He wheeled back and slammed his hand against Ryū’s as hard as he could, laughing when Ryū let out a loud yelp of pain.

“Suck it up, Mr. Tanaka!”

“Dude that gave me fuckin’ blisters! Suck up what, the serous fluid poolin’ under my skin right now?”

“We can ask Kageyama to borrow one of the straws from his milk boxes.”

“No—”

“Just stab it right in the blister—”

“Noya no!”

“—and go to town.”

“That’s sick—would that work, though? Like if it were a big enough blister?”

“I dunno – doesn’t Narita have one on his heel? We could tie him down—”

“You two are every bit as strange as Ennoshita foretold.”

Asahi was watching the two of them. His tongue was poking out slightly between his teeth as he made a face. But his eyes were crinkled around the edges and he laughed when Ryū mumbled, “Noya started it.”

“True, but it takes two to make a conversation,” Asahi said. He stooped down to pick up his bag and Noya’s. Noya grinned and bumped his hand against Asahi’s in silent thanks before remembering suddenly that he’d promised Ryū ice cream.

“Hey, Ryū, do you still want to get–”

“Nah, you guys go on ahead. You can owe me tomorrow,” Ryū said, not missing a beat. He was looking up at Asahi with an odd expression that quickly relaxed into his normal grin. “Have fun. Noya’s parents are super cool. They’ll like you.”

Asahi paused, a look of surprise flitting across his face for a moment before a relieved smile tugged at his lips.

“Thanks, Tanaka,” he said, warmly. Gratitude embedded deep in his voice. Enough to make Ryū’s cheeks color.

“It’s nothing – don’t let Noya’s grandfather freak you out too much though,” he said finally. He turned to go, waving over his shoulder. “Text me tonight, okay? You two are gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Say hi to Sis for me!” Noya called out after him. He got a thumbs up in return.

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Noya lightly prodded Asahi’s arm.

“C’mon. We’ve gotta go to the store.”

“What’s at the store?” Asahi asked, giving a little bow in Ukai and Take’s direction as he was manhandled out the door.

“Food, mostly.” Noya pulled up the list on his phone and showed it to Asahi. The older boy’s dark eyes quickly skimmed the screen. He frowned.

“Your mom wants you to buy premade kinpira burdock root? That dish is so easy to make though. The supermarket always overcharges.”

“…Wow, Asahi – ‘supermarket’ and complainin’ about price gougin’ in one sentence. How old are you again?” Noya teased. He laughed when Asahi’s cheeks grew red but quickly took pity on him. “Seriously though? It’s easy?”

Asahi recovered after a moment and nodded.

“I make it all the time. It’s one of my mom’s favorites. The most time consuming part is julienning – cutting everything into tiny french-fry shapes.”

“I’m good at cutting things,” Noya offered. His eyes lit up. “Asahi – Asahi you know if you make this dish and it’s good, my mom’s gonna automatically love you. You’ll get twenty points right off the bat. Gold star.”

“…What’s the ratio of points to stars – I mean if… if you really think it’d impress her?” Asahi rubbed his arm neurotically. “I could use something as a buffer… I – god.” He visibly swallowed, hand tightening on the strap of his bag. “I’m so nervous… my mouth’s all dry.”

“What’s there to be nervous about?” Noya asked. They were leaving the school yard. It was already growing dark, enough that he felt comfortable walking closer to Asahi than would have been strictly normal.

“Every waking moment of my life has the potential for nervous,” Asahi said glumly. “But this – I dunno, I’m… I feel guilty since they don’t know and they’re letting me spend the night. It’s not like we’re going to… to d-do anything, but still—”

“We’re not?”

Asahi stopped and stared at him. Surprised. Noya stared back, not sure where exactly the question had come from. Or what his subconscious had apparently been planning when he hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been too wrapped up in getting through the week to get to Saturday to realize that Asahi spending the night would mean Asahi in his room. On a futon next to his. Maybe in his. Sleeping in the same room for the first time since training camp, this time without a potential audience of ten of their peers.

Noya felt his own cheeks color but he stubbornly held his ground. It had been a month. More than a month of seeing each other every day, every holiday. That counted for a lot in his book. Maybe he’d deserved to ask the question even if Asahi was looking a flimsy strand of spider’s thread away from mortification-induced-implosion.

It took an age for Asahi’s lips to part. Noya had refused to budge, confidence that was his default emotion cementing his feet to the road. Asahi’s own feet shifted in the dust.

“I’m terrified.”

They were the words Noya had been expecting. 

Asahi’s smile, the shy gaze that still held his own, Noya had not.

“Or I feel I should be, anyway. But that’s not the emotion winning the battle right now.”

Noya worried at his lip.

“…Which one is?”

Asahi didn’t say anything. His hand tightened on the strap of his bag, and for a moment his eyes broke contact, gaze raking over Noya’s chest like a physical thing.

Asahi let out a slow, shuttering breath. Closed his eyes.

“The one that wants – just. Everything.”

Noya felt a sudden rush of heat. To his cheeks and to that annoying cluster of snakes just underneath his stomach. He knew his confidence wasn’t fake, not like Asahi’s could be sometimes when he was forced into one of his many ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ modes of existence.

But suddenly he realized that maybe he had no idea at all what confidence should be. And that he was seeing it now for the first time in the sharp angles of Asahi’s hands. They had relinquished their grip on his bag. They gave him away.

Noya reached out and grabbed Asahi’s hand. It was dusk, dark enough to hide, and he held onto it tightly as he started walking again. 

“N-Nishinoya – bravado aside, maybe we should talk about this before we just –”

“We can talk. But you know what I want. I think it’s the same thing you do.”

Asahi fell silent. A moment later his fingers tightened around Noya’s.

“Just to the main road.”

The strange energy that prickled at Noya’s skin had faded to something tolerable by the time they reached the store, which was small, tucked inside the station proper. He handed Asahi a basket, having let go of his hand half a mile back when they’d hit the main road. As promised.

The station shop was packed. Too many people, they were making it difficult to maneuver. And he didn’t have time for this. He tried to push his way through the largest group at the front but wasn’t making much headway. With a frustrated growl he prepared to bully ahead anyway.

“Nishinoya – come on.”

He felt a pressure on his arm as he was gently guided out of the flow of traffic, around to the perimeter of the store, devoid of people. Asahi let go of him as soon as they were in the dry good aisle. The movement was quick and apologetic.

“Sorry – sorry, you weren’t moving and—”

“It’s fine,” Noya said. He came back to his senses; enough to pull out his phone and bring up the list. But that was about all he could manage. His palm was still warm from Asahi’s. It was a little too much. He’d never been good at multitasking.

Hooking a finger in the loop of Asahi’s bag strap he dragged him down the necessary aisles and started putting things in the basket. Mirin. Sugar. The gross bagged spaghetti sauce his sister loved. It was neon pink and supernatural looking. Probably the only reason she liked it.

It took him several aisles to realize that Asahi wasn’t saying anything. Not even the occasional mumbled comment he was apt to let out when he spotted something of mild interest. Curious, Noya glanced up at the older boy and was surprised to see his brows drawn together.

“Asahi?”

Asahi’s gaze darted up for a moment before he looked away.

“…I feel stupid having to confirm this –”

“You’re not stupid.”

“—but are you mad at me? Somehow?”

Noya made a face at the question. He couldn’t help it. Nor could Asahi (probably) help his expression of genuine relief.

“Oh… oh. Good,” he said. “You were so quiet—”

“I can’t really think and talk at the same time,” Noya said. He resumed shopping. Toning the pace down to something less militaristic. 

“And I’ve given you something to think about.”

“You usually do.”

“I see.”

Asahi sounded pleased, and when Noya glanced up at him there was a smile on his face that was a little bolder than usual. It quickly faded to something more chastised once Asahi realized he had an audience.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“S-So what else is on the list?” Asahi said.

Noya handed his phone over.

“You tell me. It’s just the stuff for the burdock whatever.”

Asahi made an ‘ah’ noise. “You have soy sauce at home? Sesame oil?”

Noya shrugged. No idea.

Asahi didn’t look impressed. A lock of hair fell out of his bun and into his eyes. He ignored it. Glanced at the staples – sugar, mirin – already in the basket.

“What are the chances you do.”

“I dunno – thirty percent?”

With a little sigh Asahi turned around and headed back to the condiments aisle. Noya followed after him. Asahi had only had to ask the question about him being mad once. It had been three times a month ago.

The prickly feeling returned to his skin. He felt too small for his body. Asahi’s was so big, his fingers plucking things off the shelves. Curve of his shoulder, muscles moving under his thin jacket. The dusting of dark hair along his arms, the nape of his neck.

And they were in the middle of a grocery store and Asahi was meticulously examining two bottles of soy sauce. Ten yen difference in price.

“—store brand’s not that bad, but—”

Noya grabbed the brand label one and shoved it in the basket. He pushed on Asahi’s back.

“We need to go.”

“Wh—Nishinoya, what—”

“My siblings get home at seven. We’ve got half an hour.”

Asahi’s face paled.

“…You’re – we can’t do anything in—”

“Whatever we can get to. Let’s just go.”

Asahi must have sensed the bit of desperation in his voice. He nodded, and when he walked to the register his pace was slightly faster than normal.

If the checker picked up on the tension, she was gracious enough to not comment. Their things were rung up, placed carefully – too carefully – in the wrinkled shopping bags Noya had remembered to yank out of his school bag.

Asahi picked up the bags without being prompted. Noya led them out of the station, down the road towards his house. Past the tiny foreign car repair garage. The temple. The playground, deserted. The rain canal, soaking green in moss and algae. Above them the street lights crackled to life.

Noya could feel Asahi taking it all in. His eyes lingered on the colorful slides in the playground.

“Have you lived here long?”

“Since I was five.”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s not usually this quiet.”

“Oh. I’m glad.”

Noya gave Asahi a questioning look. Asahi shrugged his broad shoulders. The bags held tightly in his arms.

“I’ve gotten used to noise lately.”

Noya laughed, the sound bouncing off the high, concrete walls surrounding the houses. Asahi wrinkled his nose.

“Case in point.”

“I’m not that loud!”

“I don’t know that you’re qualified to make that statement.”

“I’m really not—”

“No,” Asahi said. He was biting his lip, looking thoughtful. “No, you’re not. You’re right.”

Noya stopped at the gate, taking a moment to fish out his keys. Behind him Asahi shifted. His fingers reached out to touch the name plate. Nishinoya.

“I like the font.”

“Granddad was a calligrapher. We modeled it off of his stuff,” Noya explained. He opened the gate, waiting for Asahi. He was still staring at the nameplate. His index finger traced the final stroke.

“Does anyone call you by your first name?”

“Outside of my family?”

Asahi nodded. He lowered his hand and followed Noya inside the small patch of concrete that marked the house’s front yard.

“Ryū’s sister does. And Ryū’s parents,”

“You’re close to them.”

“Yeah – it feels like I’ve known them forever.” Noya shoved open the front door. It tended to stick. He held it open for Asahi, quickly toeing off his shoes and lining them up. Asahi set down the groceries and followed suit. Noya grabbed the bags and shoved everything into the fridge. Didn’t matter. Soy sauce and sugar were probably still okay after they’ been chilled.

The house was dark and quiet.

“Want a tour?”

“Please!” Asahi’s voice echoed from the entryway.

Noya glanced at the clock. Quarter till. He cursed.

“It’ll have to be quick.”

The entryway hall fell silent. Asahi appeared at the door, his socked feet falling soft against the bamboo floors. He took up most of the small doorway. His tan skin was flushed – cheeks and ears. He stared into the unfamiliar space – the kitchen, the living room – seeming to take none of it in. It may as well have been an empty warehouse.

His eyes rested on Noya. A long silence, marked by three ticks of the second hand.

“…Maybe just your room, then,” he said. “Until everyone else gets home.”

Noya didn’t wait for a fourth tick. 

He closed the distance between them with a few quick steps. Asahi was already bending down to meet him, hands moving to his hip, the small of his back. Noya buried his fingers in Asahi’s hair, felt the hair tie slip and fall uselessly to the floor.

They left it there. Jackets, clumsily extracted. Tossed onto the back of the sofa. Noya barely had the presence of mind to slide the door shut behind him before Asahi’s murmured voice made him forget there was a door at all. 

His room felt miniscule. Not enough to contain them. Four steps in and Noya’s back hit the wall. He barely registered the impact, just arched more into Asahi, the slick muscle of Asahi’s tongue against his teeth making him shudder. He ran his hands down Asahi’s chest. His fingers caught in the divots that marked the plane of muscle. They found the hem of Asahi’s shirt, tugged insistently. Asahi let go of his hips to pull his shirt off, and Noya slid down the wall, the paper scratching his back, catching threads in his shirt. He hadn’t realized Asahi had been holding him up. Pale oval spots over his hipbones where Asahi’s fingers had found rough purchase. Returned to again to pull Noya flush against him. Asahi’s hands helped relieve the slight strain of his calves as he pushed himself up into the kiss. Hands ghosting over salt-stained skin, breath hot against his neck when Asahi had to move away to breathe.

There was an immediacy to every action. They’d kissed before, quiet and cautious in Asahi’s bedroom. Nervous in the shadows of the station. Here there was none of the fear of other voices. Just a ticking hand on the clock. Which was somehow worse, almost. Mingled with expectation, urgency and assumption.

Something shifted. 

Snapped.

Cords tightening; in muscle, in the tension that wound itself around them painfully tight. Asahi pressed them against the wall, and his knee slipped between Noya’s thighs. Noya’s hips jerked forward automatically, the heat in his gut an iron brand. He let out a helpless groan at the insistent pressure. The noise rang through the stillness of the house like a firework. 

Asahi tensed. He started to mumble an apology. Before the older boy could move, retreat, Noya pressed forward. Acting on instinct and not what was being written on the inside of his teeth.

“No – leave it, leave it, Asahi—”

Asahi sucked in a sharp breath. His head bowed, soft, brown curls brushing against his shoulders.

“Nishinoya…”

“Asahi… ah, f-fuck…”

Noya buried his face in the crook of Asahi’s neck, his hips jerking forward again against his iron will, drawing another humiliating moan past his throat. The air felt choked. Asahi’s chest was heaving. Like he was catching his breath after practice. After their morning run. His fingers dug into Noya’s skin. Painful. Unintentionally, unwittingly so.

Noya squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassment and heat making him want to let go. Asahi’s cologne, dim, effaced by the sweat of practice the court. Asahi’s legs trembling from the fatigue of holding perfectly, perfectly still, large hands moving to push back Noya’s hair as though it were made of delicate threads. They all said stay. Noya couldn’t tell which was louder, which was right.

“Nishinoya… Nishinoya, we don’t have to.”

Asahi turned his head to nuzzle his cheek.

“We can wait, it’s okay—”

Noya shook his head. Childish and stubborn.

“No – no, I don’t—…”

Frustration prickled at him. Like a bed of needles rolled across his back.

He scrubbed at his eyes, suddenly furious with himself for no reason other than because he was overwhelmed and hadn’t expected it. 

“Asahi – shit, I’m sorry, just give me a second, I’m fine.”

The pressure between his legs eased. He almost reached out to pull Asahi back, even though it was pride shocking his muscles into action more than anything else kinder and more wanted. 

He heard the soft slide of socks against the tatami floor. Hesitant. Then Asahi wrapped his arms around him. Pulled him loosely against his chest, cheek pillowed in his hair.

Noya tensed. It felt like pity. Sympathy.

He pushed at Asahi’s chest.

“Cut it out – cut it out I’m fine—”

“I wasn’t fine.”

That made Noya freeze. A dark shame coloring his gut black, extinguishing any lingering heat.

He tilted his head back, stared up at Asahi through the curtain of his dark hair.

“What?” He swallowed heavily. “Asahi – Asahi I’m so sorry, I—”

“When it was me,” Asahi said quickly. “I meant when it was – me.” His expression was old. Unreadable. He cupped his hand against Noya’s cheek. His thumb brushed against the delicate skin just under his eye.

“I wasn’t okay. Not – he wasn’t… it wasn’t anything terrible. More embarrassing and awkward and… revealing than anything. I was just young. We both were, we didn’t know what we were doing when we thought… I thought, especially…”

Asahi let out a little breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them his eyes were kind. Jaw set.

“So even if you ask, right now I can’t – I won’t. Some things you can’t do twice.”

Noya felt something well up in his chest. Frantic and wild and needing escape. It made him fling his arms around Asahi’s neck, pulling him down into a crushing hug. Asahi let out a quiet noise of surprise but after a moment accepted the embrace. Allowed Noya to dig his fingers into his back. Bore it silently, held his tongue when Noya started to shake. Just kissed his temple and tightened his arms.

Exhausted. Noya was exhausted from fighting against his instinct to flee but he’d had enough of soft. Of delicate treatment; even those two seconds had pushed him to his limit. They made him feel worse and cowardly. Asahi didn’t know – how could he, it wasn’t how he was wired. This was how to tell him without having to let go. Noya hadn’t had enough of Asahi yet to make letting go of him bearable.

And something in him said Asahi needed it too. Needed closeness, needed friendliness. 

“You’re so nice,” Noya mumbled, after a long, drawn out quiet. Asahi shoulder muffled his voice.

“So are you.”

“Not as nice – no one’s as nice.”

He heard Asahi open his mouth. Almost felt the protest come spilling out past his lips.

Instead he said, very softly, “I try.”

Another silence. This one calmer. Noya let out a long, drawn-out breath. His heartbeat had slowed. The room was so still he could almost hear Asahi’s heartbeat. Calm. Giant like him in how it thudded against his ribs.

Carefully he unwound his arms. His muscles were aching. Shoulder, especially. Where he’d landed funny.

Asahi loosened his grip as well, arms falling to wrap around Noya’s waist. As close to his waist as they could get without Asahi bending over, anyway.

Noya closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Asahi’s bare chest. Against the dusty patch of dark, soft hair he was secretly envious of.

“That kind of sucked. I didn’t – I really didn’t realize how like… out of control. It could be,” he said. Halting. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

“It’s… I think it’s different, sometimes,” Asahi said. “I don’t know. I’m hardly an expert.”

Noya nodded. He bent down to pick up Asahi’s T-shirt. He offered it out to him and Asahi shrugged it back on. He ran his hands down his chest, smoothing out the fabric with a practice that hinted at ritual calming.

“…Sorry I freaked,” Noya said, suddenly needing to apologize. Like a compulsion. It felt foreign and he wanted it out of his body. “It caught me off guard— I seriously didn’t think—”

The house shuddered as the front door opened. Shuddered again when it slammed shut.

“Yū! Yū, are you home?”

Suzu’s voice cut through the heavy air.

Noya rubbed at his face, torn between grateful and irritated at his sister’s timing.

“Yeah!” he called back, after collecting himself a bit more. Locked everything in a little box to deal with later. Or never. Whichever. “Gimme a sec – my friend’s over!”

“Oh – oh! Right okay! Okay, I’ll be right back!”

Loud thuds of her clunking her way upstairs.

Noya lowered his hand and glanced up at Asahi. The older boy’s face was pale. Somehow Noya didn’t think it had anything to do with his apology. Or what had just happened or failed to. More about beyond the door.

“Your sister.”

“Yeah… she’s noisy. Good thing you’re used to that now.”

Asahi nodded. His hands twisted in his T-shirt before he unclenched his grip. It took visible effort. He paused, though, his posture relaxing for a moment as he surveyed Noya.

“You don’t need to apologize, by the way,” he said. His voice was pitched lower, quiet. “We can – maybe tonight, we can talk about it. Well I’d… I’d like to. Anyway.”

“We can talk,” Noya said. The box rattled and he kicked it into a deeper, darker corner. “I’ll probably be not so great at it, but—”

“It’s okay,” Asahi said, interrupting. “That’s the part I have some. Mild. Confidence in.”

Noya let out a breathy laugh, relaxing finally as he felt Asahi’s normal awkwardness return. He pushed himself up to give him a quick kiss, squeezing his forearm as he did so. 

“Thanks. Counting on you.”

“Y-Yeah… yeah okay,” Asahi said. There was a dazed, happy look on his face. 

As Noya headed to the door he felt Asahi hook a finger in his pocket for a moment. Anchoring himself, no doubt, before the door slid open.

Noya flicked his hand. Affectionately. Normally. God it was nice to feel normal.

“They’re just kids. And parents.”

“Kids and parents who I want to have like me,” Asahi said.

“I like you. Everything else’s just details, right?”

Noya slid the door open.

 

(Continued in Chapter 13)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A DIRECT CONTINUATION OF CHAPTER TWELVE. It operates under the assumption that you have read chapter twelve and found it enjoyable enough to want more.

In the living room on the other side of the door, Taka was already on the couch, his school bag and its contents arranged neatly on the coffee table in front of him. The TV was turned to some cartoon show. Taka blinked and sat up a bit straighter, a look of nervousness flashing across his face as he stared towards his brother and his brother’s guest. He timidly waved.

“Hello.”

Asahi waved back. Just as timid.

“H-Hello.”

Noya lightly elbowed him in the ribs.

“Why are you the one stuttering?”

“Ow – it’s not something I choose to do,” Asahi mumbled. He rubbed his side and gave Noya a little look. Pleading. 

Noya raised an eyebrow, telling Asahi that he was going to have to do the job of introducing himself. When Asahi’s expression held at well above pathetic he gave in.

“Taka, this is my friend, Asahi.”

Noya pressed his fingers lightly against the small of Asahi’s back, nudging him forward. Asahi took two shuddering steps and then came to a halt in front of the sofa. He smiled weakly.

“H-Hello.”

Taka just nodded. His fingers were plucking at the pillow in his lap.

“Hello,” he said. Again.

The room fell horribly silent. Only the blaring kid’s show – some special about unique bugs – filled the endless, painful void.

Noya glanced between his brother and Asahi. A clear stalemate. Clash of two shy personalities. 

He rolled his eyes and tugged Asahi’s arm, forcing the older boy to sit down with him on the couch. He placed himself between Taka and Asahi. Strategic. Genius.

Taka still shied away a bit.

“And Asahi, this is Taka, my little brother,” Noya said. He ruffled Taka’s messy hair. His brother squirmed but didn’t otherwise protest.

“Ah… Hi, Taka – ah, I already said hi,” Asahi said. His face was morbidly pale.

“You already said ‘ah’ too,” Noya teased, flicking Asahi on the forehead.

Taka peered around Noya. His pale eyes widened as they took in Asahi’s face. He reached up to touch his own chin. 

“…How old are you, Mr. Asahi? You have a beard…”

“Oh – o-oh I’m… I’m only ten months older than your brother,” Asahi said. His eyes were darting around. As though searching for a calendar to prove it. “I just. I. Have. A beard? I have. A – it’s not. Big not a big. Beard. I’m still in high school.”

His hands were pressed firmly against his thighs. Probably to hide the palm sweat.

Noya had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Remaining silent was an actual torture he wasn’t sure how long he could endure.

Taka sat back, thoughtful. “Oh.” He tugged on his brother’s sleeve. “Yū?”

Noya took a moment to calm down and then ruffled his brother’s hair again.

“Yeah kiddo?”

“Why don’t you have a beard?”

Noya glanced up at Asahi.

“Good question – hey, Asahi, how would I look with a beard?”

Asahi’s features twisted reflexively into a frown of disapproval before he could stop them. He quickly said, “F-Fine, you’d look fine no matter what,” but it was a little too late.

Noya raised an eyebrow. Silently asking.

Asahi wilted and he folded his hands in his lap. A posture of embarrassed submission.

“…I like how you look now,” he mumbled. “That’s… that’s all I meant…”

Noya snorted but muttered, “Good save,” before turning back to his brother, who was watching TV instead of blatantly eavesdropping like Suzu would have done.

“Asahi’s just a little older, that’s all,” Noya explained as he looped an arm around his brother’s tiny shoulders. “You want me to grow a beard, Taka?”

“No,” Taka said. He squirmed under the light teasing. “And Yū why do you stink? Mom’s gonna be mad… she hired those loud people to clean the couch last week and we’re supposed to be really careful…”

“Stink – oh.” Noya quickly stood up off the couch, tugging Asahi with him. “We just got back from practice – Asahi, you should bathe first, come on.”

He wrapped his fingers around the older boy’s wrist and dragged him down the hallway towards the bath slash laundry room, Asahi letting out a little, “N-Nice meeting you Taka,” as he was manhandled.

The door to the bath was easily kicked open – lock never really had worked properly – and Noya pushed Asahi inside.

“I’ll go grab you a towel, you can start showering off,” he said. “Where’re your PJs?”

“PJs…” Asahi bit his lip, looking pleased or embarrassed about the word. Then he suddenly went pale.

“Oh no— Nishinoya, I forgot—”

“You can borrow some shorts from me and one of my dad’s T-shirts,” Noya interrupted. “I’ve got some basketball ones that will probably be long enough for you.”

Asahi went from apologetic to curious in an instant.

“Basketball—”

“I had a lot of sports pipe dreams as a kid,” Noya said, waving a dismissive hand. “Hurry up and strip, we still need to make that burdock thing before my parents get home. Water’s one of those electric heaters, should come out a nice forty-four degrees feel free to use my shampoo and stuff be back with your towel in a second!”

He slid the door shut and put up the DO NOT ENTER magnetic sign his family stuck to the door. Broken lock really a problem in a house with one bath and five people.

Noya headed back to his room, stopping to check in on Taka and make sure he was okay with having a stranger-friend in the house. “He’s big but sits small,” was all Taka said before turning back to the TV. Cryptic, but Noya would accept it.

It took a bit of emptying out his whole closet for Noya to locate the basketball shorts. They’d be snug – Asahi’s hips were a lot bigger than his. After a bit of moral warring with himself he grabbed Asahi’s bag to bring with. He probably had boxers in there and if it were Ryū’s bag and Ryū in the bath Noya would just rummage around and grab some. Felt different with Asahi. A quick trip up to his parent’s room and he returned with one of his dad’s marathon T-shirts from his glory days. Might be a little tight; Nishinoyas were all around a lot smaller.

Whatever. Asahi could deal.

Noya made his way back to the bath, listening to make sure he could hear water running. He slid the door open and padded into the small room outside the bath. Sink and washing machine, nothing fancy.

“Asahi, I’m leaving your towel and clothes on top of the washer. I brought your bag too,” he called out. Through the frosted glass he could see a dim outline moving around, Asahi sitting on the small, pink stool in the bath room.

“Oh – thanks,” Asahi said. His voice was echoy. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Sure thing. I’ll make sure my siblings are calm so you can handle them while I’m in the shower.”

There was a pause.

“…I can’t just hide in your room?”

“Nope,” Noya said. He leaned back against the washer, settling in for a potential conversation. “I’m going to force you to socialize with my family. You’ll like them and if you can win over Taka and Suzu – well, just Suzu, really – my parents will automatically like you. Pressure off.”

“…I don’t make you hang out with my family whenever you’re over.”

“That’s one hundred percent false! I helped your mom with her computer for like – at least twenty minutes that one time! And we’re jigsaw buddies I found three whole pieces!” Noya protested. He lightly kicked the shower door and burst out laughing when Asahi let out an alarmed yell and barked, “Nishinoya no! No aggressive confrontations while I’m naked!”

“Admit I hang out with your mom!”

“You hang out with my mom! A slight but normal amount can you please go I – dammit soap in my eye…”

Noya laughed again as the blurry shape fumbled around. Probably trying to grab the shower handle.

“Okay I’ll be in the living room. Come get me when you’re done.”

“You might find me wandering around your house completely robbed of my sight – what percentage of this shampoo is battery acid.”

“Twelve, don’t take too long!”

Asahi muttered something indistinct, the noise swallowed up by the water. Noya headed out of the bath, closing and signing the door behind him.

He plunked himself down on the couch in the living room and chatted with Taka for a bit. His sister announced her impending presence by thundering down the stairs and threw herself dramatically over her brothers. She rolled over to grin up at Noya. Her hair scrunchie had watermelons on it.

“How’s your friend?”

“He’s big,” Taka mumbled. He pushed fitfully at his sister’s legs and whined quietly, “Suzu move…”

She sat up with a great show of reluctance and immediately leaned against Noya.

“Do I get to meet him? Did he go home?”

“No, dork, he’s spending the night, remember?” Noya said. He poked Suzu’s nose and she snapped at his finger with her teeth.

“Does he play Mario Kart?” she asked. After making the requisite shark biting noises.

“He plays excellent Mario Kart,” Noya said proudly. “I’ve never beaten him.”

Both his siblings looked dubious.

“But… you’re really good,” Taka said. He sounded lost.

“I am good. Asahi’s just better.”

“Can he do all of the rainbow road, though? Without fallin’ off once?” Suzu pressed. Her lips were set in a disbelieving frown.

“I dunno, we didn’t do that level. I threw the controller before we got that far.”

Suzu and Taka exchanged glances.

“…Did he duck in time?” Suzu finally asked. “’Cause remember – remember when you hit Ryūnosuke?”

“That was an accident!”

“He got real mad,” Taka mumbled. “Even though it was just pretend mad.”

“Yeah well – This time I threw the controller on the chair. And Asahi doesn’t get mad – …he doesn’t get mad like Ryū does,” Noya corrected. “But yeah Asahi could probably do all of rainbow road without fallin’ off.”

“What can I do without falling off?”

Noya glanced behind the couch, ready to brag to Asahi about Asahi and his amazing video game karting skills. 

His brain short circuited.

Asahi was hovering in the doorway, a towel around his neck to catch the water dripping from his wet hair. The shorts, thankfully, seemed to fit, but the T-shirt was just a hair too small. Not enough that anyone would comment. But enough that anyone familiar with the particular contours of Asahi’s chest would be able to map them. No problem.

Noya had to quickly look away. Whatever comment he had prepared died a bloody death on his tongue the moment Asahi had appeared to hover like a muscular, slightly hairy angel in the doorway of his family home. 

And he suddenly felt like the world’s grossest sleezeball freaking out over wet attractive and tight T-shirt with his grade-school-aged siblings next to him.

A sleezeball who couldn’t even make it through one makeout session without slamming on the brakes.

Fuck why was everything about this so contradictory. Math was probably involved, somehow. It felt that alienating and complex.

Noya quickly stood, grabbing his own PJs off the couch.

“I’m – shower. Taka, Suzu, be nice to Asahi,” he mumbled. “And Asahi, Suzu, Suzu, Asahi.”

“’Kay…” Suzu said. She was peering over the couch, studying Asahi. He didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was on Noya. As Noya squeezed by him into the hallway Asahi touched his arm, his brows knit.

“You okay?”

“Fine – T-shirt, that’s – it’s nothing,” Noya muttered. He patted Asahi’s arm to get him to let go and to hopefully distract from his flustered babbling. “I’ll be quick. And you’ll be fine. They respond well to video game prowess and little else.”

“What – oh god oh right – okay.”

Asahi pressed his towel against his face for a moment, visibly composing himself, before he nodded. He squared his shoulders.

“Please hurry,” he said, and then walked out into the living room like a man approaching the gallows. Noya waited long enough to make sure Suzu wasn’t going to harass Asahi too much before he bolted down the hallway, tugging off his shirt as he went. He almost tripped over his shorts as he stumbled into the bath room but managed to save himself at the last second.

In his rush he dropped the shampoo bottle three times, accidentally kicked the stool into the wall, and would have foregone a soak completely except some small part of him was paranoid he still smelled and plus what was the point of getting wet if you didn’t submerge yourself completely it felt half-assed. He clambered into the bath, spilling a good third of its contents, and then sank slowly down to the bottom. He stared up through the water at the ceiling. Wiggly and wavy. 

He had to calm down.

Asahi didn’t want to tell parents, so he wouldn’t tell parents. But both his mom and dad noticed things way, way sooner than he would have guessed. They noticed when he started wearing studded belts. When he bought shoes with extra thick soles. When he’d dyed his hair – that last one was too obvious an example but it had taken Ryū’s parents several visits to the restaurant before they’d noticed. Granted he wasn’t their kid but –

Noya surfaced, gasping for air. He clapped his hands against his cheeks and squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds.

But they would notice him freaking out over wet attractive and tight T-shirt. Or well, damp attractive by that point.

Still they’d notice.

So calm. Be calm. Don’t stare too much, don’t stare too little be normal. Like it was Ryū visiting. Asahi’s mom hadn’t noticed anything yet. They’d be fine. They were good at this.

Noya climbed out of the bath. Resolute. 

He quickly dried off, tugged his clean T-shirt and boxers on, and then made his way back to the living room.

And then stopped.

Asahi was sitting on the floor, talking amiably with Suzu who was all cuddled up against him, looking pleased with herself. Cuddled up or trying to wrestle his left arm, it wasn’t quite clear. Taka was perched on the sofa behind Asahi, gamely attempting to braid his hair.

Both Nishinoya siblings looked up at their brother’s arrival.

“Yū help – I can’t do the fancy one!” Taka said, distraught.

Asahi glanced over his shoulder, his gaze apologetic.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Suzu wanted to braid my hair but Taka said he should so – is it okay to indulge them?”

Noya nodded. It was about all he could manage until his brain reconciled the sight of Asahi in his living room. Watching cartoons with his siblings like he’d been there forever.

“Yeah – yeah don’t let Suzu near hair. She pulls,” he finally said, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

“…I used to pull – I’m better now,” Suzu mumbled sadly. She was still holding onto Asahi’s arm, and now that Noya was close enough he could see that she was tightening her grip, her eyes trained on Asahi’s face.

Noya clicked his tongue and prodded Suzu in the back with his big toe.

“Suz’. No.”

“Wh—I didn’t do anythin’!” she protested. “Yū!”

“You’re trying to see how long Asahi will stay silent when you’re hurtin’ him,” Noya said blandly. He poked her again. “Remember what happened with Auntie Keiko?”

“What happened with Auntie Keiko,” Asahi asked immediately. “Does she still have all the arms she was born with.”

Noya snorted and gave Asahi a reassuring grin.

“Oh, just bruisin’, nothin’ permanent.”

“Oh. Good?”

“Yeah – Asahi just scrape her off.”

“No!” Suzu clung even tighter. “No he’s fine – Taka wouldn’t let me braid his hair and now I can’t even do this we never have guests that aren’t Ryūn and he— ah.”

She clamped her mouth shut and stared fixedly at the TV.

“He what,” Asahi said. He turned to Noya, his eyes wide. “He what, Nishinoya. What happened to Tanaka? Why does it sound like everyone who enters your house gets a ‘remember when’ misadventure attached to them?”

Noya rolled his eyes and hopped off the sofa to tug Suzu away from Asahi. She immediately went limp like a bag of sand and Noya staggered under the weight.

“He nothin’, Asahi, Ryū just caught on and won’t let – Suz’ I know your legs work, cut it out.”

“No,” Suzu mumbled, staring at the floor. “No, your meanness made them break and –”

Noya unceremoniously dumped his sister on the couch and plunked down on the floor next to Asahi.

“Then you can relax there and recover,” he said as he knocked his knee against Asahi. “Your arm hurt?”

Asahi shook his head, his large hand rubbing at his forearm.

“No – no, it’s – she has very tiny hands, I was all right,” he said.

“Tiny hands, but they’re like raptor claws,” Noya warned. “She gets my dad to file her nails into points – Suzu show him your nails.”

Suzu immediately stuck out her hand for inspection and wiggled her fingers. Her tiny nails had indeed been filed into sharp little points.

Asahi went pale.

“…Why.”

“I can pick up real small things,” Suzu said solemnly. “And dig fast and peel off stickers and open soda cans. But I have to be good and not hurt people or I’ll lose my power.”

“But she still pulls hair,” Taka said before making a frustrated noise and scooting away from Asahi. “…And I can’t make the braid pretty.”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Noya said. He reached behind and patted his brother’s leg. “Asahi’s cookin’ somethin’ for us anyway – we should probably get started on that before Mom and Dad get home.”

He pushed himself off the floor and offered Asahi a hand. Asahi blinked up at him, his hair half twisted into a loose plait and already falling out to partially obscure his eyes.

“You’re helping?”

“Course,” Noya said. He grabbed Asahi’s arm and yanked him to his feet. “You don’t know where anything is.”

Asahi dusted himself off and gave Noya a look.

“Do you?”

Noya felt his cheeks pink, but he scoffed to quickly recover.

“I’ve got eyes and – really good instincts,” he said as he headed into the kitchen half of the large room, ignoring Asahi’s mutter of, “Wasn’t aware instincts could help locate a vegetable peeler.”

Noya started taking things out of cabinets that he did know – bowls, knives, cooking stuff like that – and dumping it on the counter for Asahi to sort through. His siblings peered at them from over the back of the couch before vaulting over and following them. Suzu vaulted, anyway. Taka more slid and plunked.

“Hey – hey, Mr. Asahi, you’re makin’ somethin’?” Suzu asked, drawing even with Asahi and peering up at the counter.

Asahi froze, a knife and cutting board in hand.

“I – you don’t have to… ‘Mr.’ isn’t needed,” he said as he carefully put the cooking things back down. “And yes. Just… it’s a really simple dish. Burdock and carrot… thing.”

“What’s that?” Taka asked. He pointed at the scraggly root on the counter.

“Ugh, I know. Gross right,” Noya muttered, picking up the root for Taka to inspect. “Asahi, is this really the right thing?”

“Yes, that’s the burdock – here, I’ll take it and – Nishinoya, maybe your siblings shouldn’t – no, no Suzu don’t touch that!”

Asahi quickly grabbed Suzu and tugged her away from the counter. She wiggled a bit in his grip, more out of habit than anything, most likely, before falling still. She stared at the knife on the counter and then held out her hands. She frowned.

“Yū?”

“Yeah, kiddo?” Noya asked, gently pushing Taka away from the counter with his foot.

“Will my nails get that sharp?”

She sounded forlorn.

“Hm… yeah, maybe,” Noya said. He plucked Suzu out of Asahi’s arms and set her on the floor. “But for now, Asahi and I need you guys to stay out of our way, all right? He’s gonna be lighting stuff on fire—”

“That’s not a step!”

“—and using really dangerous tools and you know how your powers will go away if you hurt someone, Suz’?”

Suzu nodded, her expression turning grave.

“Well it’s the same for Asahi. But extra strict,” Noya said. He clutched at his chest. “If someone else gets hurt around him – even if it’s not his fault – he won’t just loose his powers. He’ll shatter! KABOOM! Just like that!”

Suzu’s eyes widened in childish alarm. Taka wore a dubious expression but was clearly not confident enough to question directly.

“…Why will he shatter?”

“What kind of powers?”

“Ah, well, that’s a secret,” Noya said. He scooped his brother and sister up and set them on the back of the couch. He poked their foreheads, making the requisite beeping noises.

“Ten minutes until you two reboot, okay? Then I’ll tell you.”

Suzu let out a dramatic whine but obediently flopped backwards to fall onto the couch. Taka sighed but clambered after his sister and sat properly, his hands folded in his lap.

Noya glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen.

“How long will this take, Asahi? Ten minutes enough?”

Asahi was staring at them from across the room, looking lost. He finally shook his head and said, “No – thirty, maybe… hands on time…”

“Got it.”

Noya reached over the couch and poked his siblings in the forehead twice more. Suzu screeched with rage but remained still.

Noya grinned.

“Thirty minutes. Then you can reboot and come hang out with us again, okay?”

“…Fine,” Suzu muttered. She crossed her arms over her chest. “He wouldn’t let me help anyway…”

“Not this time, kiddo. Sorry,” Noya said. He patted her head and then Taka’s before returning to the kitchen. Asahi had already started scraping the burdock with the back of a knife. Noya lightly elbowed him in the side and without a word Asahi handed the things over, miming what to do, before turning to chop something else.

They worked in silence, the only sound the colorful noises from the TV and Asahi’s occasional, soft, instruction. Noya was only halfway done chopping his part of the vegetable into little matchsticks when Asahi moved to take over.

Noya leaned against the counter, watching the knife slice through the root with soft shick shick noises. Asahi’s eyes were trained on the cutting board. Fingernails carefully holding the root, his grip on the knife loose and comfortable.

Asahi dropped a handful of the matchsticks into the bowl of water.

Shick shick.

“You seem to know what you’re doing.”

Asahi lifted his head, surprised. He pushed a few strands of hair out of his face.

“Oh – yeah, I’ve… god I’ve made this a thousand times. It’d be weird if I didn’t know,” he said. His grip on the knife was tight. Fingers splayed out on the cutting board.

It made Noya nervous. He glanced at the rest of the ingredients.

“What do we do with these?”

“That’s for the braising liquid. After I finish chopping these I have to—”

Noya grabbed the bottle of soy sauce and looked at Asahi.

“How much?”

“What – two… two hundred fifty milliliters—”

Noya dumped some in the big bowl Asahi had laid out. The rest of the ingredients lined up behind it. Very orderly. Meticulous, practiced.

Shick shick.

Noya went down the ingredients line, held bottles and packages in Asahi’s line of sight. Always before he started making a cut. And Asahi quietly said the amount, Noya ignored it and estimated.

Root matchsticks drained, burner on. Oil, crackling out of the pan and Suzu and Taka peering over the back of the couch. 

A huge cloud of steam rose up when Asahi poured in the liquid. He stirred everything with long kitchen chopsticks. 

Noya pushed himself up to sit on the counter so he could watch. Asahi’s grip was relaxed again. His lips were parted slightly, hair falling over his forehead. He’d pulled the rest back into a messy bun. A few remnants of the plait Taka made were still visible.

Noya waited to see if Asahi would look up from the pan. When he didn’t, Noya prodded him in the hip with his foot.

“Asahi.”

“Mm?”

“You’re really hot when you’re cookin’. I think it’s the confidence.”

There was a horrible screeching noise as the chopsticks dug into the bottom of the pan.

Asahi’s lips were pressed tightly together. His fingers were white.

“Nishinoya – your brother and sister are right—”

“They’re watching TV,” Noya said. He pressed the ball of his foot against Asahi’s hip, grinning widely at the warning, “Nishinoya…” He didn’t bother moving. That wasn’t Asahi’s final exasperation voice. Still two levels to go.

Asahi let out the weird little huffing noise he made whenever he was flustered or displeased. He turned back to the pan.

“You say that when I’m doing anything, though,” he said. His voice was so quiet Noya had to lean forward to hear. “You said it when I was playing DS the other day—”

“Also somethin’ you’re confident in.”

“—and you said that too about how I look in class—”

“Yeah I think the lighting was just really good when I passed your classroom.”

“—and when my shoe got stuck in between the train and the platform and I panicked.”

“You had the glow of survival about you,” Noya said. “But maybe you should be a chef? Cul… cullin? Somethin’ school. You can learn to cook there.”

Asahi turned the gas down and set the chopsticks aside. He glanced at Noya, who offered him a grin that faded once he saw the upset look on Asahi’s face.

“…What’s up?”

“That’s the fifth or sixth career you’ve suggested for me this week,” Asahi said. “The other day it was a photographer—”

“But you’re really good at photography.”

“—and then a writer—”

“I still think about the hōzuki lantern.”

“—and now a chef and – why do you keep doing that when you know how stressed out about next year I am?”

Noya blinked in surprise. Asahi’s voice had cracked at the end; his brown eyes were fixed on a point over Noya’s shoulder. Cheeks red.

Noya slid off the counter. Took a couple steps away from Asahi. “…You – I mean, you’re freaking out because you don’t know what you wanna do,” he said. “You have a blind spot when it comes to your own talents and stuff, so I thought that if I pointed some out you might get some direction and wouldn’t have to worry. The unknown’s always worse, right?”

“I don’t need – randomly suggesting careers based on hobbies or – or little activities you see me do like chopping vegetables or brushing my teeth isn’t really helping,” Asahi said, frustrated. “And I told you I just – I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“You’ve got less than a year left, though. You keep mentioning that so when are you going to think about it?” Noya asked. “And you would—”

“Nishinoya.”

“—make a good chef. Or a good photographer or any of the stuff I mentioned if you would just—”

“Nishinoya I don’t want to talk about this with you!”

Noya took a step back, his chest squeezing too tightly for anything to work like it should. He tried to school his expression but Asahi must have caught a glimpse of something, because he quickly stammered, “N-No, it’s not – I’m not mad at you I just don’t think this is the right time—”

“Why not with me?” Noya asked and god his voice was too small everything was constricting and twisting. “Did I make – I just wanna help, I’m – I mean I’m your boyfriend I’m supposed to – to, uh…”

Noya trailed off as he stared at Asahi. The older boy’s face had gone from pale to bright red in the span of a few pathetic heart flumps. Noya’s chest was still acting weird; they were too weak to be called heart beats. Flumps it was.

Noya tilted his head to the side. Waiting. When Asahi didn’t move, he cleared his throat.

“You okay there? Asahi?”

Asahi jerked as though he’d been stung and gave a quick nod. He stepped back – at some point he’d gotten incredibly close – and turned to face the stove again. 

“You uh – you. You called – it. You.”

Noya stopped hitting himself in the chest to get his lungs working again. He gave Asahi an odd look.

“…I called it me?”

Asahi rested his forehead against the hood fan. His eyes were squeezed shut.

“…You called yourself my boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

Noya shifted from side to side, eyeing Asahi warily.

“Yeah I – I didn’t plan it? And I mean that’s what we are, so really you can’t get mad— or well, you can but maybe you shouldn’t—”

“But we haven’t – you never said it since the um – when. When we officially decided so I just – it. I’ve never heard it aloud and those words in that order and I – ah. God…”

Asahi pressed his hands against his face, and Noya leaned in just in time to hear the older boy mumble, “I’m really happy.”

Noya let out a whoosh of air as his chest expanded again. Asahi was still hiding behind his hands so Noya just bumped his forehead against his upper bicep. As high on Asahi’s arm his forehead could comfortably reach.

“I really haven’t said it?”

Asahi slowly shook his head.

“Huh.”

Noya clicked his tongue.

“Yeah I’m – you know I’m really bad at remembering new vocabulary and stuff.”

Asahi lowered his hands and stared down at him, looking concerned.

“…You didn’t know the word boyfr—”

“I knew it! Just – not in a ‘use this word in a sentence’ kind of way!” Noya said, socking Asahi in the side. “I’m dumb but I’m not that hopeless! I know first grade vocab at least!”

Asahi rubbed his side, his lips quirking up in a little grin.

“…Can you spell it?”

“Can I spell – uh.”

Noya quickly wrote the characters in the air.

Fuck.

“…Does the first character have six strokes or seve—”

“It’s eight.”

“Ah shit.”

Asahi laughed, the noise loud enough to make Suzu yell from the living room, “Mr. Asahi please we’re trying to watch our television programs and you are really loud?!”

“My sincere apologies, Miss Suzu!” Asahi called back. The living room fell into stunned silence and Noya gave Asahi an approving grin.

“Learning.”

Asahi returned the smile and rapped his knuckles against his head.

“Learning.”

From outside came the horrible screech of the gate, and a moment later the front door to the house burst open. Ria stumbled into the living room, face bright red and sweaty, one high heel hanging gamely on to her foot, the other in her hand. Brandished like a weapon. She scanned the room wildly for a moment and then turned her attention to the kitchen. Her eyes lingered on Asahi for a moment before dismissing him and focusing on her son.

“Kōyō?”

“Dad’s not back yet,” Noya said. He patted Asahi’s arm when he felt his boyfriend start to shake. 

Ria’s whole face lit up, and with a triumphant cackle she tossed her briefcase and shoe into the entryway.

“Four out of five times! Four out of five times this week I beat your father home, and –”

The house shuddered again as the front door flew open.

“Is she here alre — no!”

Noya laughed as he heard his dad fall dramatically to the floor in the entryway. Ria kicked off her other shoe and went to retrieve him, and Noya took the opportunity to tell Asahi, “My parents race.”

“Each other or – bears?” Asahi asked weakly.

“Home.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Only some days, though. Mom usually works late.”

“And your mom is a —”

“Defense lawyer.”

“And your dad?”

“Hairstylist slash entrepe whatsit. Owns his own salon.”

Asahi nodded and ran a hand down his face. His eyelids looked haggard. Somehow.

“Why didn’t you make me a cheat sheet before dragging me over here…”

“I’m pretty sure I told you this already. You probably just forgot it in your complete panic,” Noya said. He grabbed Asahi’s arm and dragged him into the hallway. Making lots of noise. His parents liked to be gross and kiss or whatever at the end of the day and he wanted to give them as much advanced warning as possible.

Thankfully they were just putting their coats and shoes away properly, Ria mercilessly tormenting her husband about his consecutive losses and no his train being late didn’t mean jack shit a loss was a loss. Noya waited for a break in the insult stream to push Asahi forward.

“Mom, Dad, this is Asahi. Asahi, say hi.”

Asahi swallowed heavily and gave a little bow, rocketing upright again so quickly Noya heard bones in his neck pop.

“Hi – hi. Hello, I mean. I’m – Ahisa Azu—Asahi Azuman. Mane. Azumane it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Kōyō wasted no time in clapping Asahi on the shoulder while Ria stared up at him from her miniscule height.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Asahi,” Kōyō said warmly. “Welcome to our home – is that my shirt? You should keep it, it looks great!”

Ria pursed her lips, indicating her silent disagreement, but after a moment she shook Asahi’s hand.

“Yes, welcome. Mr. Azumane, are you quite well?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him, Mom, he’s just nervous,” Noya said in exasperation. He tugged on Asahi’s wrist. “C’mon, we need to go check on the cookin’.”

“Cooking – oh yes! Yū said you were going to be making us a side dish with dinner!” Kōyō said excitedly. He trailed after his son into the kitchen. “It smells amazing already – you’re quite the chef! And we’ve heard so much about you it’s great to put a face and a – a size, really with the name! You’re so tall!”

“You haven’t even tasted the food yet, Kōyō, you can turn the forced frivolity down just a notch,” Ria said dryly, “Although yes, the house smells good, thank you, Mr. Azumane. And your stature is impressive.” 

“You’re – it’s not – no problem at all and size is – it’s genetics I didn’t – no control over that but thank. Thank you,” Asahi said. He took a subtle step back, putting Noya in between himself and Noya’s mother.

Ria smiled. Reserved. “No need to be so nervous,” she said. “Just accept the compliment.” She raised an eyebrow at her son. “Did you offer your friend a drink, Yū? Or anything? Or did you put him immediately to work.” 

“Asahi volunteered, Mom, I didn’t make him do anything,” Noya protested.

Ria snorted and murmured, “Somehow I doubt that.” She stopped by the living room to give her two younger children a kiss (they informed her they were powered off for three minutes, still) on her way to the kitchen. She cracked open a beer and drained half of it in a few gulps before plunking down at the kitchen table and resting her forehead on the surface. She let out a little groan. Kōyō made a sympathetic noise.

“Long day?”

“Yes. A four beers sort of day now that my adrenaline rush has passed,” Ria said, fumbling for her beer without lifting her head. “Pizza’s on its way, Yū, I ordered it before I left the office. And Kō, did you pick up—”

“Salad’s already in the fridge.”

“I love you.”

“It’s mutual.”

“Gross,” Noya muttered, and then immediately dodged a swipe from his father. Kōyō laughed and shook his fist.

“Damn your agility!”

“You always attack from the right. You need to mix it up old man,” Noya shot back, making his father laugh again. Kōyō grabbed a beer for himself from the fridge and then paused. “Ah, Mr. Azumane, do you want something to drink? We have a few sodas and juices and things.”

“Oh – no, I’m… water is fine,” Asahi said. He was glancing back and forth between Noya’s mother, who was still half-sprawled out on the table and totally silent, and his father who was trying to balance four containers of supermarket deli food on top of his beer and was chattering away about a few clients he’d had that day. He didn’t seem to care that no one was listening.

Noya squeezed by his dad and grabbed a bottle of Qoo out of the fridge. He tossed it to Asahi who managed somehow to catch it.

“Here, apple’s your favorite right?”

Asahi nodded and clutched the juice to his chest.

“…Thank you,” he said quietly.

Noya raised an eyebrow.

“What’s up? My parents too loud?”

“Objection, I haven’t said anything for two minutes,” Ria pointed out, lightly hitting her hand against the table. Her head was still bowed.

“Yū told us you’re kind of a quiet guy, Mr. Azumane, but that we should ignore that and bully forward,” Kōyō said sympathetically. “Did the kids wear you out?”

“No! No not at all – they were nice – they were fine,” Asahi said quickly. “And Nishinoya is always – your family is very similar to him in the, um – the dynamic. Regard. So I am used to it I’m – I feel like I’m maybe imposing, that’s all. Or interrupting.”

“Well, you are,” Noya pointed out, elbowing Asahi. “But that’s the point. You’re a guest; you’re supposed to throw a little wrench in the works.”

Kōyō started setting things out for dinner, dunking spoons into all of the side dishes still in their plastic containers. He opened his mouth to say something but then paused and walked a quick circle around Asahi, studying him. Asahi remained frozen.

“Ah… Taka got to your hair, didn’t he?”

“Oh, um… yes, sir, he – he braided it,” Asahi said. He touched his hair self consciously but then lowered his arm again in a clear sign of mental strength. Kōyō wrinkled his nose, looking remarkably like his son in the gesture.

“Kid’s got terrible motor skills. The small reserve of Nishinoya coordination ability all got shoved into Yū and Suzu, probably. Ria and I are both terrible at sports. If you want I can fix the braid for you, or—”

“Dad don’t be weird!” Noya said, horrified. “Asahi can do his own hair!”

Kōyō immediately held his hands up. “Sorry! Sorry, Yū, I’ll try and refrain from embarrassing you further. Yū can fix it for you if you want, Mr. Azumane, he’s pretty good. Used to come to the salon with me all the time.”

“Asahi doesn’t need me to braid his hair either,” Noya said. “He’s plenty coordinated. When he was cooking he julie… julie uh…” He glanced at Asahi. “What’s it called again? The fancy cuttin’ thing?”

“Julienning,” Asahi mumbled as he scooted a wide berth around Noya’s dad to check on the burdock.

“Yeah, that – see, Dad, check it out!” Noya said, butting his way in next to Asahi and lifting the lid off again so he could show his dad the contents. Kōyō made an approving noise and gave Asahi a grin.

“Impressive! Looks way better than the stuff we get at the supermarket.”

“And Asahi’s the ace on our team,” Noya said proudly. “He had this super awesome kill today – hit Narita right in the chest and it sounded like a cannonball hitting a bulldog!”

“Again, I – that wasn’t intentional,” Asahi said weakly. “No matter what Tanaka said…”

“Oh right! The legendary ace of Karasuno,” Kōyō said, patting Asahi on the shoulder. “Explains the height! And the girth, haha!”

“Asahi’s not legendary yet, that won’t happen until we win nationals,” Noya said as he put the lid back on the pot. 

“Ah. Pre-legendary, then, sorry.”

“I’m not really unique enough to be legend anything,” Asahi said. He was still holding the cooking chopsticks. “I just do my job as the ‘ace.’” He made awkward airquotes with the chopsticks and then mumbled, ‘ow’ when Noya smacked his hand.

“You are the ace! You don’t need to hedge it!”

“But that – that doesn’t mean anything to adults…”

“Yes it does! Mom, tell him it means something!”

“Yū enjoys using your court position to refer to you so much that it was months before we knew you had a Japanese name and weren’t some sort of foreign import celebrity named Ace,” Ria said obligingly. “I can’t speak for other adults but that title carries a good deal of weight in this household, at least. For what it’s worth.”

Asahi cheeks pinked. He opened his mouth to say something but the doorbell interrupted him. Suzu immediately dashed off the couch, bellowing, “Pizza!”

“Money’s in my purse, Suz’!” Ria called out. She pushed herself up from the table with a groan. “Taka, you’re up to bat.”

Taka wordlessly slid off the couch and padded into the kitchen. He wordlessly squeezed past Asahi to open a drawer and started taking out chopsticks and silverware to set the table.

“Oh – oh, I can help,” Asahi said quickly. “Nishinoya, where—”

“Plates, glasses, six of each,” Noya said, pointing to the respective cabinets. “I’m gonna help Suzu with the pizza before she accidentally forks over a ten thousand yen bill or somethin’.”

Asahi nodded and moved to turn off the stove, thanking Kōyō awkwardly when Noya’s father opened the cabinets for him and joked, “You don’t need a footstool like the rest of this family, huh?”

Noya entrusted Asahi temporarily to his parents and quickly hurried into the entryway. Sure enough Suzu was struggling to count the bills and the pizza delivery girl looked guilty and nervous. Noya fished out the right number of thousands and took the pizzas. The girl gave him a grateful smile, and for a moment Noya found himself thinking in a distracted, ambivalent sort of way, that she was cute. He pushed the thought aside and returned the smile.

He and Ryū should order pizza from the same place next time they were hanging out. Ryū’d probably like her. The cell phone in her hand had a Power Rangers strap on it.

“Have a good one,” he said to the girl, and she bowed and hurried off back through the gate.

“Suz’, close the door,” Noya said, turning around and heading back inside. His sister shut the door with a sulky, “I would’ve gotten it,” to which Noya replied proudly, “You totally would have.” That seemed to make her forgive him for his intervention, and she darted back into the kitchen, yelling that she wanted Natchan to drink. 

When Noya returned with the pizzas, the rest of his family and Asahi were already sitting around the small kitchen table. Asahi was seated in the office chair that normally occupied a space in front of the “office” in the corner of the living room. The spot across from him was free and Noya sat down, carefully placing the pizzas next to all the side dishes.

The moment the pizza touched the table, pandemonium broke out.

Suzu ripped open the boxes, taking three pieces for herself before moving on to grab heaping spoonfuls of all the sides, Taka mimicking her almost to the motion. Ria and Kōyō were arguing good-naturedly about which brand of pizza was better, stopping only to compliment Asahi on the burdock dish. Asahi just offered them a weak smile, his hands still in his lap as though he were afraid that if he extended them they’d somehow end up on someone else’s plate. Noya waited for a break in the grab fest and then snagged a piece of pizza for himself and Asahi, content with that until everyone calmed down. Asahi subtly brushed a few green peppers off his slice and tried to hide them in his napkin, but Noya just opened the other pizza box and said, “No peppers on this one,” before switching plates with Asahi.

“Oh – thanks, sorry,” Asahi said. He took a slice for himself and then cleared his throat. “And um, thank you – thank you Mr. and Mrs. Nishinoya for having me over. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem!” Kōyō said enthusiastically. “Yū’s always hanging around your house, we’re happy to return the favor! He’s says it’s amazin’, by the way. You live up in the bluffs?”

“Yes, just outside of the Yamane shopping area,” Asahi said.

Kōyō whistled appreciatively.

“Your family must be loaded then, huh? Pizza can be on you next time!”

“Kō – don’t be crass,” Ria said before glancing at Asahi. “What do your parents do, Mr. Azumane? Yū only ever talks about you.”

“My father works for a firm in Tokyo as an actuary and my mother – she um. She. Writes,” said Asahi, fiddling with his napkin.

Noya swallowed his bite of pizza and grabbed another slice.

“Asahi’s granddad was some famous diplomat to Mongolia—”

“Russia.”

“—to Russia which is why they’ve got the fancy house. It’s got all these neat pictures in it of Saint Peatbuger—”

“Petersburg.”

“—Petersburg hanging up in the hallways and Asahi’s room is in a tower.”

“Like a princess?” Taka asked as he prodded at the burdock root on his plate.

“Yeah, sure,” Noya said, amused. 

“If Mr. Asahi’s a princess then you should be a knight, Yū. You’re not noble enough to be a prince,” Suzu said, a note of authority in her voice.

“You’re not in Knight Yū’s class, are you, Princess Azumane?” Ria asked. She waved a forkful of burdock root around. “This really is very good, by the way. You have a talent.”

“That’s what I told him!” Noya punched Asahi in the arm. “He likes to deny my accurate compliments though.”

“That’s because your ‘accurate compliments’ come at a rate of about five a minute and I can’t keep up with all of them,” Asahi said, rubbing his arm. “And ah – please, Mr. Nishinoya, Mrs. Nishinoya, you can call me Asahi… I guess ah... Princess Asahi is fine too.”

“Asahi, then,” Ria said. Her eyes were bright as she surveyed him. “And ‘Ria’ and ‘Kōyō’ will do just fine for us.”

“Thank you, um. Ria.” Asahi cleared his throat. “And no, I’m – I’m a third year. Not in Nishinoya’s class.”

“A third year – entrance exams must be coming up, huh?” Kōyō said sympathetically. “That’s a rough time.”

“Asahi’s not takin’ the exams – can I have the salad, Mom?” Noya asked.

Ria wordlessly passed the salad to her son, but her gaze was fixed on Asahi.

“Not taking entrance exams? Are you studying for trade school, then?” she asked politely.

Asahi hesitated and then shook his head.

“I, um… I’m. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing yet,” he admitted. “My oldest brother went to college right away, my other brother was a rōnin for a year but then he got in to Waseda and works as a park ranger at Mt. Tate now. So I… I might… I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Asahi!” Kōyō said with a great deal of enthusiasm. “Your youth’s when you should be figuring stuff out! Yū talks about going pro sometimes. Any thought of doing that?”

“I – N-No, not… I’m not really good enough,” Asahi said. His polite smile was starting to waver.

“But Yū said you were the ace of your team,” Ria said. She’d set her fork down and was sitting back in her chair, her arms crossed.

“Yes, I’m – but the ace of a small rural team doesn’t… it’s not that impressive,” Asahi said, his hands resting under the table again. This time they were visibly trembling. “I haven’t won any awards like Nishinoya or Kageyama. If I were at a bigger school I probably wouldn’t be first string—”

“Asahi, cut that out, you know you’re really good,” Noya interrupted. He took another bite of pizza to keep from getting too worked up. “He’s always like this, just ignore him.”

“Yū – that’s not very nice,” Kōyō said, a disapproving frown on his face. 

“It’s true though! He’s not an accurate judge so people like me and Suga have to rein him in before he gets all morose,” said Noya.

“He didn’t sound all that morose to me,” Ria said lightly. “Just realistic.” She fixed Asahi with a clinical gaze. “You won’t be trying for the professional level? Not even if your team makes nationals?”

Asahi shook his head. “No – no, ma’am. I know I’m under qualified.”

“And you have no plans for vocational school or college.”

Asahi shook his head again, a quiet “No,” his only response.

“The Self-Defense Force, then.”

Noya frowned and lightly bumped his foot against Asahi’s under the table before glaring at his mother.

“He’s not one of your witnesses, Mom; you don’t need to grill him.”

“I asked him three questions,” Ria said, raising an eyebrow. She finally seemed to pick up on Asahi’s discomfort and uncrossed her arms, offering him a little smile before she picked up her beer. “And as Kō said, you’re young and plans can change. I started out as a prosecuting attorney and now I would rather spit on one than shake their hand.”

“A point you’ve proven in reality several times,” Kōyō teased, flicking a bit of burdock root at his wife. She laughed, her earlier moment of high-tension scrutiny clearly set aside. “What was I supposed to do? He was trying to put my client in jail!”

“That’s his job, Ri!”

“Oh job schmob if he didn’t want to get spit on he shouldn’t have chosen a profession where passionate, spittle-ridden speeches are part of the job description.”

Noya ignored his parent’s bantering to glance worriedly at Asahi. The pizza on his plate was only half-eaten. He was staring down at the table but didn’t seem to actually be looking at anything. And his hands were still shaking.

Noya lightly pressed his foot against Asahi’s, letting it stay there. He felt stupid but it was the only comfort he could offer in the moment without being obvious. He scrunched his toes against the top of Asahi’s foot to get Asahi’s attention. When Asahi looked up – hair falling in his eyes and a miserable expression he was failing at hiding plastered all over his face – Noya said firmly, “Eat. We had a hard practice today.”

Asahi blinked, long eyelashes catching against his skin. But then his lips quirked up in a smile and he nodded.

“Ukai really is turning into quite the taskmaster,” he said quietly. Noya didn’t respond until Asahi had taken a substantial enough bite to appease him. Noya quickly polished off his own slice and then licked his fingers clean of grease (ignoring his father’s, “Yū! Napkins, what have we told you.”).

“He’s remindin’ me more and more of his granddad with every practice,” Noya said. “Which in my book isn’t a bad thing. Just wish he was nicer to you.”

“Does your coach pick on you, Asahi? He’s the new one, right? With the terribly maintained bleach job?” Kōyō asked as he threw a balled-up napkin at his son.

Asahi quickly shook his head and stammered, “N-No! No he – not more than anyone else—”

“He totally picks on Asahi,” Noya interrupted. “He yells at him all the time – sometimes not enough and sometimes about the wrong things, actually. But it’s great – Asahi’s vertical is gettin’ so much better—”

“It’s great that you’re excited for him, but I want to hear what Asahi has to say, Yū,” Kōyō said gently. “He’s probably got an opinion on Coach Ukai.”

Noya’s cheeks immediately went red and he cast Asahi an apologetic look. “Oh – ah, right. Sorry, Asahi, I—”

Asahi quickly waved his hands. “No Mr. Nishi—Kōyō it’s fine, I don’t really have many opinions and I value Nishinoya’s input so I really… I honestly don’t mind. And it’s true, Coach is… he’s really hard on me, but even though Suga – he’s one of our setters – even though Suga thinks it’s unfair, I just know that… that a lot of people are expecting a lot from me. And if I can’t handle a coach who’s just trying to help me then… then I really should hand the ace title over right now.” 

Asahi frowned, a serious look clouding his features. “And I’m not comfortable with that yet. I know I’m not… I’m not done.” He lifted his head, his eyes catching Noya’s across the table. 

Noya bit his lip to keep from grinning too widely and lightly kicked Asahi’s shin under the table.

“So you do have a passion for the sport,” Ria said. She raised her beer to her lips, her eyes sliding from Asahi’s embarrassed expression to fix for a moment on her son’s proud one. “That’s quite good to know.”

“Asahi’s got a passion for a lot of things, Mom,” Noya said. “Like photography and – oh, uh…”

He sat back in his chair and cleared his throat.

“What are some of your other passions, Asahi? Maybe you could elaborate on them to my parents,” he said, picking up a slice of pizza. Maybe if his mouth was full he wouldn’t keep interrupting his boyfriend.

“Oh… ah, well I… photography, like Nishinoya said. Is… is a thing I like,” Asahi said awkwardly. After a bit of silent prompting from Kōyō he slowly resumed talking about the hobby, his words picking up steam as he got comfortable. Taka asked him some questions about insect catching – Asahi had mentioned photographing bugs when he was little – that spawned a lively debate between Suzu and Taka over which were more impressive, Hercules beetles or rhino horned beetles. Noya remained quiet, content for the moment to listen to his family drag Asahi deeper into the divisive issue. 

A little tap on his shoulder made him glance towards his mother. She was studying him carefully and he tensed at the unwanted attention.

“What is it?”

Ria hummed thoughtfully.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this quiet since you were expelled—”

“Suspended, Mom.”

“—are you feeling all right, Yū?”

Noya tried to keep his eyes focused on his mother, but a flurry of movement from across the table made him look over to where Asahi was gesturing wildly, trying to imitate a Hercules beetle. Much to the amusement and appreciation of Suzu and Taka.

“Yū?”

“Huh? Oh—” Noya glanced back at his mother, unable to keep from grinning.

“Yeah. Yeah I – I feel really good, actually. Thanks.”

Ria turned to study Asahi for a long moment before she said neutrally, “You’re welcome.”

Dinner was quickly cleaned up and Suzu said quite passionately that she wanted to watch some movie about penguins. All the Nishinoyas crowded on the couch, Noya insisting that Asahi take his place. After a lot of protesting on the part of Asahi, Noya finally shoved Asahi down on the couch and sat in front of him, holding onto his legs tightly so he couldn’t move. Asahi quietly surrendered.

Halfway through the movie Taka fell asleep, his head pillowed against his sister. She in turn was leaning against Asahi, her eyelids drooping lower and lower with each moment. When she started snoring softly, Kōyō grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off.

“That’s our cue,” he said softly as he scooped up his son and daughter. “I’m going to put them to bed. Thank you again for cooking, Asahi. Need us to get you up at any certain time?”

“No, Dad, I’ll wake him up,” Noya said, pushing himself to his feet.

Ria stood up as well and started turning off the lights. “You know where extra linens are, Yū? The extra futon?”

“Yeah, Mom, I know.”

“Then good night.” She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and lightly patted Asahi’s arm. “And Asahi, if you’d like, tomorrow I can see about potential internships at one of our partner firms. It’s hardly glamorous but filing papers is better than unemployment. And you seem to follow instructions well.”

“Mom – god, don’t make him sound like a zombie,” Noya muttered as he kissed her cheek goodnight and patted his dad on the back. 

“Complimenting your friend on his work ethic is hardly degrading him to a zombie,” Ria commented as she headed upstairs, her husband following carefully behind her, the youngest Nishinoyas in his arms. 

“Sleep well, you two. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Night, Dad,” Noya called out as he dimmed the lights in the kitchen.

“Nishinoya…”

“Mm? Yeah, Asahi?”

“…It’s very dark and I didn’t really have time to memorize the whole layout of your family room.”

Noya laughed and bounced over to Asahi’s side. He grabbed his hand.

“Right. Follow the sound of my voice.”

Asahi’s fingers tightened around his in response.

Noya took the two steps beyond the television and then slid open the door to his room.

“Whew, okay. Made it safely somehow!”

“What – oh come on, I didn’t know we were that close,” Asahi said. But he didn’t let go of Noya’s hand until Noya flicked on his desk lamp. Asahi blinked as his eyes adjusted and then glanced around the room.

“…It’s um. Kind of spooky in a traditional room at night,” he said. “Paper walls and… u-uh can I help with the futon?”

“We have a wall out back, no one’s broken in yet,” Noya said helpfully as he padded over to the closet to tug out his futon. “And sure – blankets are back there.”

Asahi skirted around Noya to dig the blankets out.

“Is the other one back here too?”

“Other what?” asked Noya, flopping down on the futon.

“The other futon. The one for me.”

“Oh.” Noya pushed himself up on his elbow, a little frown on his face. “I kind of assumed we wouldn’t actually be needing one. Mine’s bigger than the standard size so –”

Asahi’s worried expression made him pause, and with a little jolt he remembered the box of humiliation he’d shoved away.

Oh. Right.

Noya sat up, suddenly wary.

“Sorry about that. Do you want me to go get it? It’s upstairs in the other linen closet.” 

Asahi hugged the blankets to his chest. Noya could see the inner war going on behind his eyeballs. Debating. Asahi was better at that than Noya was. Better at handling boxes, too. And humiliation. And firsts and a lot of things. And he trusted him to make the right call.

Noya lightly kicked his boyfriend’s knee.

“Making a pros and cons list?”

Asahi nodded. “Assuming you’re okay with sharing, the only big con is honestly that your parents will come in,” he said quietly. “Not really an easy way to explain…”

“They sleep in mega late on Sunday. I’m talking almost until noon. Suz and Taka too, they wake up and watch TV in the den upstairs for hours,” Noya said as reassuringly as he could. “So I wouldn’t really put that on either side.”

“Oh.”

Asahi fell quiet and Noya waited as patiently as he could before he poked Asahi’s leg again.

“Pro list?”

Asahi’s teeth worried at his lip but after a moment he slowly sat down, positioning himself cross-legged on the edge of the futon.

“We get to sleep in the same bed,” he mumbled, his large hands smoothing out the fabric of the blanket in his lap. “Kind of… kind of drowning everything else out if I have to be honest.” He let out a shuddering breath, expression darkening. “And I could… I. Closeness would be… kind of nice right now. To be honest…”

Noya pushed himself up all the way, any teasing he had prepared tossed over his shoulder. He scooted forward until his knees were bumped up against Asahi’s. Maybe Asahi had his own box. Seemed cruel to stack his on top of it.

Unpacking humiliation could wait.

“What’s up, Asahi.”

He quickly flicked Asahi’s chest the moment he saw the older boy’s lips start to form the word ‘nothing.’

“And I know it’s not nothing.”

“It really is, though,” Asahi muttered. His knee was bouncing up and down in agitation.

“It’s not nothin’, Asahi. Cut it out.”

Noya waited, but when there was no response he moved forward even more, pressing his hand against Asahi’s neck to feel his heart beat. Asahi didn’t protest the touch. Didn’t react at all, really, even though the vein just underneath Noya’s finger was drumming a healthy, terrified staccato.

“You still have a pulse, Asahi,” Noya said.

“Glad I meet the minimum requirements for ‘not dead.’”

“Well whatever it is it’s somewhere between nothin’ and everythin’,” Noya continued as though he hadn’t heard. “‘Cause if it were nothin’,’ you’d be fine, your pulse wouldn’t be crazy like it is. If it were everythin’ you wouldn’t have a pulse at all ‘cause knowin’ you you’d just collapse on the spot and expire. So it’s somewhere in between which means it’s somethin’ we can talk about and make you feel better about so you can sleep instead of textin’ me at two in the mornin’, yeah? Not that I mind really and I mean you’re more than welcome to wake me up if you need but wouldn’t it just be easier to get it out now?”

Noya sat back and waited. He could see Asahi unraveling like a sweater knit out of whatever script Asahi had been telling himself in his head. It was slowly coming undone, becoming legible. Faster and faster.

Asahi suddenly clicked his teeth together in obvious frustration.

“It’s just the same stuff we talked about in the kitchen before your parents came home.” 

He pushed Noya’s hand away and scooted back. “And your mom’s – you know my mom is really kind of hands off, she’s got her own life so I’ve not… outside of school, no one’s asked me questions like that. And I felt like such an idiot I couldn’t even – I didn’t even have a lie prepared not even a white one and she kept asking so many questions and she’s right anything would be better than being unemployed but filing paper and – I-I don’t want to do that but I don’t have any other options?” 

Asahi dragged a hand over his face, his broad shoulders shaking and voice getting darker and darker with every word. “I have no skills or training I’m too dumb for college and I’d just embarrass my father if I worked at the firm like Jun does. He’s so smart everyone would expect me to be too and – N-Nishinoya what am I going to do next year?! I honestly don’t know it’s been so easy up until now, just graduate school that’s it, that’s the goal. I decided to go on to high school because I didn’t know what else to do and now there’s a million different paths instead of just two, it’s not just school or job it’s not school and a billion jobs and by the way you’re qualified for none of them except frying potatoes at a fast food restaurant. Which would be fine except that I’m really scared of all that hot oil there’s so many accidents and no matter what job I have I’m going to be scared and it’s just going to be me alone while Suga and Daichi and Shimizu are off at college in Tokyo or Kyoto or somewhere big and important and I’m trying to work up the courage to fry a root vegetable because I made a coward’s choice when I was seventeen and I can’t do anything about it now! How – h-how can everything be over when I’m still – I’m just a kid I don’t… I don’t know what to do and I’m so…”

Asahi hiccupped and pressed a hand against his face.

“I’m so… g-god I can’t say it to you. You wouldn’t get it, you’ve… I don’t think you’ve ever been scared in your entire life. This is probably just stupid… noise to you. Like a foreign language and I’ll shut up, fuck I’m – sorry, I’ll be quiet.”

Noya slowly sat back on his heels, stunned into silence for a moment. His box suddenly felt very, very small. Asahi had built a city out of his. And Noya wasn’t sure he had the right to speak. He felt very clearly the second year two he held in his hand. Pliant. Malleable and a thousand different colors at once. The three branded on Asahi’s skin was still smoking, but only just. It would cool soon. Harden. And then he would be gone.

Asahi was sniffing, although his face and eyes were still dry. Or he was just very, very good at hiding. 

“Are you going to say anything?”

Noya blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He opened his mouth to say the first thing that came to mind – that Asahi was overreacting, it was just a career, careers could change his dad had been a waiter at a restaurant for years before he started his own business.

But then he saw Asahi’s lip tremble. Pride, maybe. His jaw was stubborn and sad. Noya had never seen him so quiet.

So instead of speaking Noya sat back, tucked his legs under himself, and asked, “Do you want me to say anything?”

Asahi looked surprised for a moment, then uncertain. Finally he nodded.

“Even if it’s just to make fun of me like you do when I get… when I’m melodramatic on the court. Or… or whatever Daichi calls it.”

“Sad-sahi.”

“Oh. Right. Even if it’s that, just something to show you heard I guess.” Asahi let out a shaky breath. “Or you don’t, um… you don’t… think I’m pathetic. Or that I’m annoying you with all of this. I don’t… I really don’t have to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it. I – I think. I don’t know.”

Noya tilted his head to the side.

“So yes. That’s a yes, right.”

Asahi nodded. His lips were pressed in a thin line.

“All right, then.” Noya ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to put his thoughts in order instead of letting them tumble out at will.

“First, it’s – like honestly kind of funny that you just told me I idolize people when you apparently do the same thing. I’m pretty sure I’ve been scared before. I’m not Superman.”

Asahi lowered his arm from scrubbing his eyes and gave Noya a skeptical look.

“…When.” Asahi looked away. “And Superman’s a bad choice. He has a human side that involves fear-feeling.”

“Goku, then. And when I grabbed your shirt and yelled at you a couple months ago. For starters,” Noya said. He pressed a hand against his stomach, the memory making his insides go sour. “I was angry but – probably scared, too. I didn’t want you to quit. And then – when you came back and it was so weird and I didn’t think things would ever get back to normal. And you kissing me, that was kind of scary—”

“I’m – I really am sorry about th—”

“Apology’s still on record, no need to renew,” Noya interrupted. He tugged his knees up to his chest. “And I’ve been scared about stuff that’s not you. When Suzu got really sick a couple years ago. When my mom couldn’t get work and I heard her and Dad talking about how we might lose the house. When my granddad died and I had to sleep in the room next to him before the undertaker got there.”

He lifted his head to glance up at Asahi.

“I’ve been scared lots. I guess I just don’t… I don’t like being around people when I’m scared or sad. You know that.”

Asahi nodded and said quietly, “I do know that.”

“Yeah so. That might be why but everyone… everyone gets scared.” Noya dragged himself forward towards Asahi until his feet were resting against the older boy’s ankles. “So I think maybe instead of trying to fight the scared or do the dumbass shit I do and either hibernate until a solution presents itself or bodily wrestle the fear into oblivion, maybe you should just grab it and accept the scared.”

Asahi made a frustrated noise.

“But I’ve tried that – I’ve taken career tests and you keep suggesting things and it just makes me more panicked and – and I’m really angry at myself that we’re wasting our first night getting to sleep together talking about this instead of – instead of like how you and Tanaka would. We could be playing games or watching videos and instead we have to deal with me and my stupid shit and—”

“Asahi, cut it out.”

Asahi immediately closed his mouth. 

“Good.” Noya flicked Asahi on the forehead. He uncurled from his little ball and nudged Asahi’s arms aside. He sat down in between Asahi’s legs, getting comfortable before speaking up again.

“I wanna do Ryū stuff with Ryū. But he’s not here right now because I’ve got you and I want to do Asahi stuff with Asahi. And this is part of Asahi stuff.” Noya said. He pressed his thumb against Asahi’s beard, other hand cupping Asahi’s cheek like he’d seen one of the Jedi in Star Wars do to another Jedi who was freaking out. Or dying, he couldn’t remember which.

Asahi’s cheeks were red, warm to the touch, but he tilted his head into Noya’s hand all the same. His eyes slid shut and he let out a slow breath.

“…Sorry Asahi stuff is so lame,” he said.

“It’s not lame.” Noya pushed himself up to kiss Asahi’s nose. Seemed safe enough. He sat back down and grinned up at his boyfriend. “That’s Asahi stuff too. And it’s pretty great.”

Asahi cracked open an eye, staring down at Noya as though he weren’t sure what exactly he was holding onto. A squid monster. Or something more benign. Regular squid. Tiny squidlet. 

“…That – that percentage of Asahi stuff can’t be worth all the… the other Asahi stuff. Like the ten hour rant. That doesn’t seem like a fair exchange rate.”

“Sometimes it’s not,” Noya admitted. “Sometimes the market’s uh – what’s it, all. Stock panic? Whatever. That thing where everyone’s like ‘shit sell sell sell’ and millionaires loose all their uh. Dollars? I guess. And you’re upset and it kinda makes me upset. Not because it’s a waste of time together because it’s still Asahi time with Asahi stuff, it’s just the kind of stuff that makes you sad. Which I’m not super into. But those days, the panic days… they’re not as often as you think. And usually the exchange rate is good and I can build a backlog of good Asahi stuff for when things do implode.”

He paused.

“I realize that’s… it really isn’t answerin’ any of your original ten hour rant concerns. But I don’t think there’s a fix it I can offer that would actually work. Which is really frustrating and I hate admittin’ it but for now, I guess I’ll say I don’t know what to tell you.”

He offered Asahi another grin.

“But some day I will. Some day I’ll have a potential answer for you. And it’ll either help or it won’t but at least I’ll be able to talk to you about it. I’m – I’m kind of feelin’ useless right now, actually. That I can’t be brilliant and have some amazing solution all ready for you. But I –”

The wind was knocked out of him as Asahi’s arms suddenly wrapped around his chest, pulling him flush with the older boy. He could feel Asahi trembling and after a moment he pressed his face into the crook of Asahi’s neck. 

“You’re okay, Asahi,” he said, as firmly, as devotedly as he could. “Right now you’re okay. What else matters?”

Asahi’s arms tightened around him. He let out a shuttering, terrified breath.

“Every moment after right now.”

Noya snorted, the air rushing over Asahi’s warm skin.

“Let future Asahi worry about those moments. He’s older. And his Nishinoya has probably done research or somethin’ and has some ridiculously sage advice for him. Which future Asahi will listen to. And then it’ll be okay again. All right?”

Asahi fell still for a very long time. His hands flattened against Noya’s back. Thumbs pressing deep against the muscle and sinew and spine. Finding little anchor points. But then finally he nodded.

“Okay,” said Asahi, soft. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Noya. “Any time.”

He reached up to card his fingers through Asahi’s long, damp hair, making a face when several strands stuck to his fingers. He quickly pulled his hand away and wiped it off on Asahi’s shirt.

“Okay that was gross.”

“What? Oh – yeah long hair’s not… it’s not that nice when it’s wet.”

“I thought it would be romantic.”

“I can go blow-dry it. Run back.”

“No, the noise would wake my family up…”

“…I wasn’t – I wasn’t really being serious—”

“I like your hair, though. I’d be willing to put romantic mode Nishinoya trademark all rights reserved on hold while you blow-dried your hair.”

Noya felt Asahi laugh, and when he pulled away a few moments later there was a small smile on his boyfriend’s face.

“That trademark is going to be hard to enforce.”

“Nah, not with you and your muscles around,” Noya said as he prodded Asahi’s bicep. “But man. My dexterity, your strength – we’re like a spy team.”

“Between my inability to lie and your inability to keep calm we’d be found out within roughly twenty minutes and executed as traitors,” Asahi said grimly. 

“Twenty?!” Noya scoffed. “Come on – a solid half hour at least. And Daichi would bust in at the last second to save us. What with his terrifyin’ army upbringin’.” He paused. “Suga would probably try and 007 sleaze his way in. He says the beauty mark helps.”

Asahi clamped a hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter. Noya leaned back on his arms, his knees squeezing Asahi’s ribs with every inhale. When Asahi didn’t stop laughing after a few seconds, Noya started to crack. He snickered.

“Asahi – A-Asahi, c’mon, it wasn’t that funny.”

“S-Suga… would make a terrible Bond,” Asahi gasped, tears in his eyes. “Oh my god – he’d snark the wrong person and end up shot by his own men. The Bond car would gain sentience just to run him over.”

“Fuck.”

Noya burst out laughing. He flopped forward to rest against Asahi’s chest, the sound of his boyfriend’s laughter making his chest warm and his head light. He tightened his legs around Asahi’s waist, his arms around his neck. Clung to him like a content, warm koala. Or a parasite from that deep-space horror game. 

“See,” he said, once Asahi had calmed down. “Good Asahi stuff.”

“And good Nishinoya stuff,” Asahi said. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Noya’s temple. “Although I don’t think bad Nishinoya stuff exists.”

“Did a few hours ago,” Noya said. His stomach squirmed with embarrassment at the memory. “…Definitely not my best moment.”

“What – oh.” Asahi let out a quiet sigh and gently pushed Noya off his chest. He fixed Noya with a sad smile. “You know I don’t consider that bad – well not bad for me. I felt awful for you since… you seemed upset.”

Noya looked away.

“I wasn’t upset.”

“…Contemplative, then.”

“Sure. …Wait, what’s contemplative mean?”

“Thinking deeply about something.”

Noya snorted and rolled his eyes as he muttered, “Well we both know it wasn’t that.”

“I think it might’ve been, though,” Asahi said. He took Noya’s hand, fiddling with his fingers. “You’re a very, um… body. Person. Meaning you’re all instinct and… and that’s why you’re so good at what you do. But I think your brain might have caught up with what was going on and panicked –”

Noya scowled and Asahi quickly amended, “And got slightly flustered. A really, really tiny… tiny fluster.”

Noya pursed his lips, wanting to deny that that was at all the case. But the memory evidence was sort of stacked against him. And if anyone knew about panic and fluster it was Asahi.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“…I accept your diagnosis. I don’t like it, but you’re probably right.”

He ground his teeth.

“But I don’t like it.”

“…Don’t like that I’m right or don’t like that you got upse—…contemplative?” Asahi asked warily.

“I like it when you’re right. Maybe not about things that are me but it’s. The other thing,” Noya muttered. He scratched at his hair and let out a frustrated whine. “It’s stupid! I’ve thought about doing stuff a billion times why’d my stupid brain have to freak out? It’s only supposed to betray me when it comes to exams, not important stuff.”

He glanced up at Asahi, ready to ask him if he had any advice on how to stop thinking (unlikely), but the look on his boyfriend’s face made him forget his question. Asahi’s eyes were dark. Cheeks and nose flushed. Not quite embarrassed. Shy of hopeful, interested. A weird cocktail Noya couldn’t place.

He prodded Asahi’s chest, making the older boy shudder.

“What?”

Asahi licked his lips. His voice cracked when he spoke.

“I, um… I didn’t know you… you thought about – about stuff. Like that.”

“…Well I do,” Noya said slowly. “Don’t you? It’s okay if you don’t but earlier today you seemed to have some idea of… y’know. Where hands and stuff… and legs. Could go.”

“No – I mean, yeah sometimes I do. Think about things, I mean,” Asahi said too quickly. “But those kinds of thoughts don’t just spontaneously come to mind, I have to actively think about them so I… I usually feel weird and guilty. Like I need to get your permission and – and that’s kind of weird too, like making you let me think about you – uh. In. Like that. Capacity.”

Noya nodded, understanding.

“…Like a boyfriend capacity.”

Asahi’s cheeks reddened even more, but after a moment he nodded.

Noya flattened his hand over Asahi’s heart, grinning when he felt the steady beat crumble for a moment.

“Permission granted. Think away.”

“What – like now?” Asahi said weakly.

Noya nodded, his own heart beating a little faster.

“Yeah – for such an emotional guy you keep some stuff locked up really tight,” he said. “Like what kindsa things do you think about? Kissing? Or does the rating have to be bumped up to a Z?”

“…Z?”

“Yeah like – you know, Z. For violent video games.”

“Violent? N-No, no, no absolutely nothing like—”

“Violent or sexy, Asahi. I had a feeling you weren’t looking to stab me or whatever, it’s okay.”

“No… no stabbing,” Asahi mumbled, falling silent after that.

Noya waited patiently, rubbing his hand against Asahi’s chest. His thumb caught against Asahi’s nipple and he laughed when the older boy’s body shuddered. 

“Nishinoya – god, please don’t laugh,” Asahi said, grabbing Noya’s hand. “If you’re going to make fun of me—”

“I’m not making fun!” Noya protested.

“Okay but laughing when n-nipples are involved is never a good sign.”

“I’m – I don’t know, nervous?! Maybe? You just said the word nipple and like – I dunno it’s weird! It’s a weird word they’re weird little skin nubs what’s so wrong with laughing?” Noya twisted his hand in Asahi’s grip to thread their fingers together so Asahi couldn’t do something stupid like bolt. Which he looked like he very much wanted to.

“I promise I’m not laughing at you, really. You know I wouldn’t, not unless it was something about you that you’d also find funny. Like how you have hundreds of Pokémon cards in protective sleeves instead of stored properly all jumbled up in a shoebox under your bed.”

“…Again I – I fail to see how wanting to preserve my childhood in impeccable condition is that hilarious but. I guess it’s a little funny,” Asahi mumbled. “And there’s… I don’t mind if you laugh when… when I – when we do… things. It’s better than crying – I know you won’t cry!” Asahi said in exasperation at the look of disgust on Noya’s face. “But it can be embarrassing and – and… and I like you a lot and I want you to… to think I’m cool. And good looking. And I want you to want to touch me and… and be okay with me touching you. Making you feel – feel g-good or… wanted. Which you might not be interested in – you probably don’t need anyone to want you but I. I – really. Really do.”

Noya glanced down at their joined hands and then back up to Asahi’s face. He gave the older boy’s fingers a squeeze.

“We’re touching right now,” he pointed out “I’m okay with it, I like it. How’s this embarrassing? Said to both you and… and myself since… humiliation box.”

Asahi looked confused.

“Humiliation box? Like a penalty box in hockey?”

“What? No, but that sounds amazing whatever it is. But never mind. Forget it.”

“…Okay.”

Asahi rubbed his neck again, his cheeks red. “But you know this is… Or maybe you don’t know.” He averted his gaze, his fingers tightening against Noya’s. “This isn’t the… the degree of touching that I meant.” 

Noya’s eyes widened.

“…Oh. Right.”

He hadn’t known. No, that wasn’t right. He had, some part of him had. The part that had pushed Asahi away a few hours ago.

He slowly let go of Asahi’s hand. Before his boyfriend could retreat or escape or say something to claw apart the spider threads strung between their chests, holding together the fragile impetus building between them, Noya rested his hand on the back of Asahi’s neck. Buried his fingers in his soft hair. Thumb against the pulse point in Asahi’s throat.

The box in his head was rattling. He ignored it.

“…And that’s the kind of stuff you think about?”

Asahi nodded. Slow and scared.

“All the time,” he said quietly. “But it feels – when I give in and think about it, it feels like I’m pinning you to the gym wall again and – and I don’t want to make you upset like that. Not ever, ever again. And you haven’t showed much interest in – in a-anything like that before today… we kiss but you always joke at the end or – I know I’m the paranoid one and I sometimes cut things short but you tend to pull away. And one time you… you said you felt a little… smothered. And I wanted to… to not. Have you feel like that…”

Noya remembered that word. Smothered. He remembered saying it, pressed up against the lockers at the station, in what he’d thought was a teasing voice but maybe it had been serious. Maybe it was just more of what had built the box his humiliation was now crammed inside. That tension between the instinct that drove him and the age he was. The kid he not-really was, but still wanted to be even after everything else new he wanted.

Noya felt Asahi tremble underneath his touch as he smoothed his fingers over the nape of his neck, thinking. Engaging with the small, crowded box. Asahi’s pulse throbbed hot and terrified under the pad of his thumb. And he thought about how Asahi laughed and played video games and stumbled and was worried about growing up, what others thought of him, wanting his boyfriend to like him and think he was handsome. Wanting to look cool, impress adults. 

They weren’t different. Even with the three branded on Asahi’s hand and the ten months between them. Even with his deep voice and patch of hair on his chest and the dark trail that disappeared under his boxers. With how he’d held Noya like they were in a soap opera, how he’d understood because his city of boxes was packed with the sorts of experiences Noya only had one of, boxes labeled with the name of the upperclassman that he’d kissed and touched and crafted humiliation and uncertainty with that Noya wanted to stamp out of existence.

But maybe Asahi liked that city. Liked those boxes, even the ones Noya wanted to crush.

And maybe that tension wasn’t needed. Between the instinct that drove Noya and the age he was. Asahi’s age, more or less. Only ten steps behind.

Asahi wouldn’t force him to grow up in that terrifying, self-reevaluating way. He couldn’t. City of experience boxes or no, Asahi was still seventeen, too. Under everything. And for whatever reason, that thought was relief. It was safety to Noya. A promise that nothing could change. Nothing had to. Only what he wanted.

Noya felt Asahi let out a shuddering breath. 

“It’s okay,” Asahi said. And Noya could tell by the self-deprecation in his voice that he’d read the thinking silence wrong. “It’s okay, Nishinoya. We’ve only been dating for a month and some change, I don’t expect anything from—”

Noya tugged Asahi down to meet him, his thighs tensing as pushed himself up to kiss Asahi. Asahi’s lips were parted mid-protest. His large hands pressed nervously, protectively at Noya’s shoulders, but when Noya felt the beginnings of another hesitation start to form he broke the kiss and pulled apart long enough to pant, “I’m okay, I’m honestly okay this time.” And the older boy believed him without another word, and relaxed. Leaned into the kiss, his lips parting easily. 

It was calm. Warm and comforting. Water at forty-four degrees that lapped against his skin. Feeling like home and quiet.

It took forever for Noya to force himself away, needing to breathe properly for a few moments. Poor planning on his part; spontaneity would always be his undoing. He rested his forehead against Asahi’s shoulder, flushed and self-conscious at how tightly his thighs were wrapped around Asahi’s hips. He didn’t want them to move.

He felt Asahi laugh. Warm and quiet like the water.

“So – so you too? Really?” 

Noya nodded, understanding in the gesture the sort of vulnerable embarrassment Asahi had been talking about.

“All the time.”

He shifted, embarrassment spiking as he felt the effects of Asahi’s laugh take hold. Pump more of the fuel in his veins that made him wake up in the mornings to stiff sheets and four AM washing machine visits.

Noya shook his head and made a frustrated noise. No. He wasn’t going to label it like that. Embarrassment. That was Asahi’s word, he couldn’t steal it. Didn’t want it. It wasn’t strong enough to define him anyway. Him or whatever this was becoming.

Asahi’s fingers splayed against his back, their warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. Noya felt Asahi’s legs move under his own, muscle and tension that let him jump, that wrote ‘ace’ on his back. Noya shuddered, remembering the way Asahi had looked only a few hours ago. Back arched, muscles coiled, powerful. The echo of his voice in the gym. Confidence that lurked, waiting its turn, wanting to be seen.

Noya swallowed and bit his lip as he not-hid against Asahi’s shoulder, the heat in his gut uncoiling into pressure that gave him away against the plane of Asahi’s stomach.

He felt his boyfriend tense, a soft, unsure noise leaving his lips. And he felt the same pressure underneath him, Asahi already mumbling an apology Noya didn’t want to hear. He reached up, blind, and buried his fingers in Asahi’s hair. The strands clung to his fingers, damp and smelling like fake flowers. Asahi stilled, but the pressure grew. Noya felt Asahi trembling. Restraint restraint restraint his whole body screamed it. The sort Noya admired, that was holding him in check as well. The sort that kept them waiting, suspended.

The smell of Asahi’s cologne made Noya’s resolve splinter. Just enough that he rolled his hips, letting instinct chart the movement. It drew a strangled groan from Asahi instead of an apology, and Noya moved again. He pulled back, catching Asahi’s dark eyes, darker still from the dim room and the nerve thin as a spider’s thread stretching taut between them. Chest to chest. 

Asahi’s lips were parted slightly, and he was staring at Noya, flushed. Uncertain.

Noya pressed his hand against Asahi’s cheek, holding his gaze as he rolled his hips once more. Testing.

Asahi’s eyes fluttered halfway shut. Against his back the older boy’s fingers plucked at Noya’s T-shirt. On impulse Noya shrugged it off, dislodging Asahi’s hand, pressing it to his chest instead, then lower, lower, under his navel, Asahi’s palm sweaty and hot.

He met Asahi’s eyes again, staring up at him through the curtain of black and gold hair that covered his forehead.

Asahi’s fingers twitched against his skin, and the nerve trembled. Snapped. 

With a quiet groan Asahi leaned down to kiss him, the movement pure and simple. Noya melted into it, Asahi’s lips warm and cracked against his own. He thought of volcanoes and lava splitting open. Fissures in sun-warmed earth.

He broke the kiss, just long enough to tug Asahi’s shirt up, over his broad shoulders, the fabric stretched beyond recovery, tossed in a corner and forgotten. Every movement was fumbling, slow with residual tension. Laughter that bubbled up when shorts got stuck, when fingers caught in hair. Noises that stilted, fell silent when Noya finally tore his gaze away from Asahi’s face and chanced to look down. Saw his thighs bare and pale against the tanned flush of Asahi’s skin. Noya moved closer, curious and how strange and calm he felt, sitting naked in Asahi’s lap. He pushed himself up to kiss Asahi again, murmuring encouragingly against his lips the same sorts of things they said huddled together on the roof at lunchtime. Felt the same, just as sincere in its secrecy even without the sunlight and concrete and the sounds of their classmates’ distant voices.

Asahi’s large hand wrapped around them both, his fingers trembling. Noya’s back arched from the sudden shock of it, from how big Asahi’s hand was, different so different than anything that had touched there. His eyes fixed for one, detached moment on the spot of calligraphy ink staining the ceiling light before they slid shut on their own. 

He parted his lips, needing to breathe, breathe like when they ran and even then it was still Asahi, Asahi Asahi just like then. Asahi turned his head, spitting into his palm to coat his length and Noya’s, and the roughness and the jolt of the noise made Noya’s gut clench with desire. Fervent admiration from how seamless and raw Asahi was in that moment.

Asahi’s teeth and lips found his bared throat, his thumb languidly coaxing a bead of precome that wet the pulse of friction between them. And Noya was sure Asahi could feel his heartbeat against his lips, against his palm. The soft cries of Asahi’s name he bit his lip to stifle even when he wanted to be loud, loud enough to match the pounding in his ears. Asahi’s voice hummed against his skin. Whispering words Noya didn’t know, that Asahi’s hands taught him a moment later. Mapping them out over their skin, the underside of his cock, his stomach his thighs. Memorizing their contours with his fingers and drawing choked gasps from Noya’s throat. 

Asahi tensed, suddenly, and rested his forehead against Noya’s shoulder. His fingers gave up their exploration and returned to his cock, every stroke practiced and purposeful. 

A shudder of Asahi’s huge frame was the only warning Noya had. Asahi groaned, low and wonderfully broken. Warmth covered Noya’s wrist and fingers where they wrapped around Asahi’s arm, moving with every desperate stroke. Noya bit his lip, his eyes squeezing shut as his entire body tensed. 

“Fuck – f-fuck, Asahi…” he hissed, tears springing to his eyes from overstimulation as Asahi moved his other hand to cup his balls and stroke and tease whatever sensitive skin was back there that Noya had no idea even existed. But Asahi seemed to know.

Noya came with a sudden rush that surprised him; enough that all he could do was clench his teeth and quietly swear and let it overtake him. His body gave one last, racking shudder, and Asahi’s fingers fell still. Found purchase against his hip as Noya rested boneless against Asahi’s firm chest, his own gasping to catch his breath. He hadn’t known he’d been holding it in.

The warmth passed. Its footprints left Novocain puddles in his body. His toes, fingers. The place on his back where Asahi’s hand was rubbing quiet little circles. His nerves were made of electrified clouds. Soft and sparky. 

He let out one last rush of air, his teeth aching and everything sticky and warm between them. His legs had left pale red bruises on Asahi’s sides.

A strong arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him close again. He gagged exaggeratedly at the squish and soft against his stomach and thighs and was glad when Asahi laughed, gladder when his deep voice rumbled, “I know; everything about this is disgusting.”

“So gross,” Noya mumbled, headbutting Asahi’s chest. “So gross the way you just—handjob. Handjob super well. Which you know I’m very selective about what I praise—”

“I know you are.”

“So it’s… it. Good.”

Asahi snorted. Fond.

“What was that?”

Noya headbutted Asahi again. A little harder.

“It was good. God don’t – I’m worn out be nice to me.”

Asahi hummed. He sounded pleased and a little smug and it made Noya wrap his arms tightly around him and squeeze until Asahi’s hum became a pathetic wheeze. He relented.

Asahi continued rubbing his back, pressing absent kisses to the top of his head and ears and temple.

“This is the strangest role reversal…” Asahi said suddenly. “It makes sense that you’re tired, though. I’m pretty sure my insides are permanently deformed through from how hard you were squeezing me with your legs when you – When. When you uh…”

“When I came.”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Jizzed just—boom all over everythin’—”

“Nishinoya I am trying so, so hard to be romantic here.”

“You let me make a joke about how gross this is like literally two seconds after, you should have known what you were in for.”

“I should have. I do – I did. Know.”

Asahi buried his face in the crook of Noya’s neck.

“Thank you…”

Noya blinked, surprised. He awkwardly patted Asahi’s back.

“Thank me – I just kind of sat there and like. Wiggled. Alluringly or whatever…”

“It was some quality wiggling,” Asahi mumbled, voice muffled against Noya’s skin. “And very alluring. You’re an alluring person – which I’m… you probably heard that word somewhere so I’ll just let you know it means incredibly… i-incredibly attractive and you’re that and you still – you let me touch you…”

Noya grinned, a spike of pride and confidence making his whole body feel warm again. He moved his shoulders up and down to dislodge his boyfriend. Asahi lifted his head with a little ‘ow,’ rubbing at his cheek. Noya pressed a quick kiss to Asahi’s lips, giddy and impossibly happy.

“You’re super hot, Asahi,” he said. “And I uh – your you know. Stuff. Your cock is like – it’s. I mean I knew it was big I’ve seen you naked before but there’s a difference between being like oh hey it’s my teammate walking into the baths trying and failing to cover himself with a towel—”

“Daichi said it was big enough…”

“—and hey that’s my boyfriend’s cock against mine and I – ah fuck.”

Noya pressed a hand against his face, suddenly shy. He peered through his fingers at Asahi – at all of him – just to confirm. 

With a little groan he flopped backwards, legs still loosely wrapped around Asahi’s waist.

“That was the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he mumbled. “That ever will happen to me it’s probably all downhill from here. I’m almost mad at how good at that you are.”

He felt Asahi’s hands rest cautiously on his inner thighs, his thumbs absently stroking the soft skin and fine hair. Noya felt vulnerable, incredibly exposed at the light touch. Foreign feelings that normally made him run but instead they made him want to hold still. Let Asahi know, let him touch and understand.

“Thank you,” Asahi said quietly. “I, um… I’ve had a lot of practice. On… on myself. Especially these past few weeks…”

Asahi’s fingers stuttered against Noya’s legs. Noya waved his free hand, his other still pressed against his face. He wasn’t ready to give up his security finger mask just yet.

“Practice more. See how fast you can make me come – maybe there’s a record…”

“Oh my god it’s not a competition. Normally guys want to last longer, I’m… I’m pretty sure.”

“We can go twice, then. Like super fast like this time was –”

“We lasted an average time—are we arguing about this I can’t tell…”

“—and then like really slow and… and romantic. With uh… I.” Noya felt his cheeks color. He was glad for his mask. “I liked it when you… when you started to talk.”

Asahi’s hands stilled.

“…Really?”

Noya nodded.

“It… I mean it was kind of. Sexy how… you were like… I dunno, narrating? Or whatever… like, telling me what you were doing so – maybe it was from your mom’s books.”

“Never.”

“But it made me feel like – like safe or. We were running a play and I knew what was coming so I could react and not mess it up…”

His legs were starting to itch.

With a little grunt Noya pushed himself up enough to grab the box of tissues he kept next to his futon. He sat up and took Asahi’s hand, wiping off the mess on his hands and forearms. Inhibition and exhaustion made him laugh and catch Asahi’s eyes.

“But you do… –holy shit you come a lot, huh. Maybe related to how big you are. That sounds science-y and plausible, right?”

Asahi groaned and grabbed a pillow, pressing it to his face with his clean hand.

“Nishinoya…”

“I’m just sayin’! Normally I only need one tissue. I’m on number three, here—”

“Let’s save the discussion of bodily fluids for when I’m not naked and vulnerable, please.”

“…Fine… but if I’m on to somethin’ here scientific advancement only has you to blame, y’know.”

Noya crumpled up the tissues and tossed them at his wastebasket. They rolled under his desk and he made a face at himself.

“Can’t tell the basketball club about that shot.”

“God no please don’t,” Asahi said. He lowered the pillow and gave Noya a wary look. “And please don’t – I mean you… you can tell Tanaka if you want to, but—”

“No details,” Noya interrupted before Asahi could spiral out of control.

“…Thank you…” 

Noya patted Asahi’s cheek. He quickly cleaned himself up (doing a pretty poor job but whatever, they’d go running tomorrow and get gross again anyway) before grabbing his boxers and tugging them back on. He crawled over his boyfriend to retrieve Asahi’s shorts and handed them to him. Asahi pulled them on with a quiet ‘thank you’ and sat back down cross-legged on the futon.

“So should we go get the other futon, or—”

“No.” Noya lay down, pillowing his head in Asahi’s lap. “Not unless you want.”

Noya could hear Asahi worry at his lip, but the older boy finally shook his head.

“No, thank you. This… this is nice.”

“Good.”

Noya tugged on Asahi’s arm until his boyfriend caught on to his silent request and carded his fingers through his hair. Noya grabbed his phone, opening up some dumb puzzle game Ryū had challenged him to play and started working his way through the next board, angling the phone so Asahi could see as well.

He played like that in comfortable silence for a long while, Asahi offering quiet suggestions on where to move pieces every so often. Noya almost started to drift off, his fingers slipping on the screen of his phone.

But suddenly Asahi’s hand stilled in Noya’s hair, and he spoke.

“How do you feel?”

Noya lowered his phone and rolled over to look up at his boyfriend. His face was a blur from the sleep prickling at the corners of Noya’s vision.

“…Tired, but warm and… content, I guess. Why?”

“Oh – n-no, I meant… you were, um… flustered. Before,” Asahi explained softly. “And… I just want to make sure you’re okay. This is – it’s nice, I like the quiet at night but it’s also… it’s quiet….”

Noya’s eyes widened a little in understanding. That sort of how do you feel. The more important, long term kind.

He scrunched up in nose as he thought, turning off his phone so he could devote his attention to answering honestly. After nearly a minute of struggle he gave up trying to land on anything profound and good. He stood up to turn off the lights, gently shushing Asahi when his boyfriend made a little ‘ah?’ noise of alarm. He carefully lay back down and tugged Asahi with him, curling up on his side so they could both fit. 

When the rustling of covers had subsided, Noya opened his eyes, barely able to make out the outline of Asahi’s face in the dark. He rested his hand against Asahi’s cheek, his thumb brushing smooth the older boy’s sideburns.

“I feel tired. But warm, and content,” he answered honestly. “That’s it. But – oh! Oh right.”

He bumped his nose against Asahi’s, glad the room was dark enough to hide the slight flush to his cheeks.

“And I was really… really glad that it was you.”

Asahi sucked in a sharp breath. Noya felt the older boy’s skin grow hot under his touch. He laughed sleepily and butted his forehead against Asahi’s.

“So was that the right answer—oof!”

He found himself crushed against Asahi’s chest, his boyfriend trembling from what Noya hoped was happiness. He stroked Asahi’s hair, the strands now dry and soft.

“Asahi? Hey – hey it’s all right, sorry if that… wasn’t right or—”

“There is no right answer,” Asahi mumbled. His breath was hot and damp against Noya’s bare skin.  
“There never is one; I just want you to be honest with me.”

He let out a shuddering sigh

“But I was really glad it was you, too.”

“Oh – nerd.” Noya lightly swatted the back of Asahi’s head, ignoring the sad ‘ow’ that followed. “Don’t scare me like that. I thought I’d fucked up somehow…”

“No, no fucking up.” Asahi relinquished his death grip on Noya, enough to pull away and catch his gaze, his eyes soft. “You know – when you’re so… happy or… it’s all instinct. And my instinct – it’s… to pull you close and not let go. I just want to touch you. All the time. In practice or when we’re running or – any time you… you make me happy. And proud that I’m… I-I’m in your life.”

Noya nodded, hugging Asahi’s hand against his chest as his eyes slid shut. They were burning from exhaustion. Five AM was only a few hours away. His normal wakeup time.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know the feelin’. ‘s why I nixed the extra futon. Want you close. Thought all day about gettin’ to wake up with you, so.”

“Oh – o-oh.”

Asahi draped his arm over Noya’s waist. Noya read caution in the movement and moved closer to Asahi to reassure him. He pressed a sleepy kiss to Asahi’s jaw.

“Good night, Asahi.”

Asahi’s arm tightened around his waist.

“Good night, Nishinoya.”

A little pause, and then Asahi cursed softly.

Noya cracked open an eye and grunted in question. In the dark he could see Asahi’s torn expression. 

“It’s nothing,” Asahi muttered. “Just – we didn’t brush our teeth.”

“Oh… that’s it?” Noya snorted and closed his eyes again. He butted his head underneath Asahi’s chin. “We’re runnin’ in three hours. We can brush them then…”

“…You can’t be serious.”

“No reason to break routine just ‘cause it’s Sunday…”

“Nishinoya—”

“We can sleep in after we get back.”

Asahi fell quiet and still. A moment later Noya felt him nod. Relax into the futon, into the pillow that was unfamiliar to him, against the body he newly knew.

“See you in a few hours, Nishinoya. Night.”

Noya mumbled what he hoped were words of a similar sentiment before drifting off. Warm. Tired, and content.

He dreamt of a city of brown and gold boxes. Stretching up, endlessly up in every direction. A million different sizes, all rattling and trembles, save for one. It was still and open, but Noya knew he didn’t need to look inside. There would be his name, dark with calligraphy ink, haste and impulse. Worn trainers, a wooden stick dyed blue. A three branded deep, deep in the heart of the box.

He didn’t need to look.

Nothing was changed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I hope everyone has been having good years as it’s been about five of them since I updated right.  
> Also please see the link below for a special request from me to you, my dear reader. I would make it fancy and all hyperinked but I'm not sure that's an option for chapter notes/that I would be able to figure it out even if it were SO.  
> (http://lilienpasse.tumblr.com/post/153696849013/nrdc)

“Guess.”

A groan. Muffled by the pillow.

“I don’t know. Five. Five thirty.”

“Close…”

“Close. In which direction?”

Noya pointed to the right.

Asahi blinked up at him through his hair. His eyes half-lidded.

“…I don’t know how to interpret that.”

“Earlier!”

“Oh.”

Another groan.

“Earlier… Nishinoya, are you serious. Why did you wake me up…”

“Because I got tired of being creepy and watching you sleep,” Noya said. He shook Asahi by the shoulder. 

“You have two guesses left. I can’t believe you’re not taking full guess advantage.”

Asahi grunted and pressed his face into the pillow again. His hair spilled over the white pillowcase like a billion sea spider legs.

“Five.”

“Closer…”

“Nishinoya. You cannot be serious.”

“Four fifty! Four fifty isn’t too early,” Noya cajoled. He lay down again, letting his fingers dance up and down Asahi’s back. He prodded a lone zit on Asahi’s shoulder blade and Asahi whined softly.

“Don’t wake me up early and then harass my sensitive areas…”

“Sorry,” Noya whispered. He let his hand rest on the curve of Asahi’s back, his knee pressing up against his boyfriend’s side.

“When did you put your boxers back on, by the way?”

Asahi let out a little breath.

“When I had to use the facilities in the middle of the night. And I’m not comfortable being naked that long. Especially not in a new place…”

“The facilities. Can’t you just call it the bathroom.”

Asahi groaned again and shoved his head underneath the pillow.

“Why are you torturing me about my vocabulary this early,” he mumbled. “And why am I awake…”

“Because my siblings will be up to watch cartoons in a couple hours. And I wanted to spend time with you before they get all needy and stuff,” Noya said, resting his head on the floor next to Asahi’s pillow. “But you can go back to sleep if you want.”

Asahi fell still for a moment and then lifted the pillow to peer out at Noya.

“…That’s sweet.”

Noya made a face and gagged.

“It’s not.”

“It is. But I can say it’s something else if you’d rather.”

Noya nodded.

Asahi hummed in thought, a bit more life returning to his voice.

“It’s… saccharine.”

Noya wrinkled his nose. Saccharine. What.

“What’s that mean?”

Asahi at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

“…It’s a fancy word for sweet.”

Noya groaned and rolled over onto his back.

“No! Pick somethin’ else.”

“…Considerate?”

“Better…”

“Mecha-considerate.”

Noya grinned and propped himself up on his elbow to poke Asahi’s nose.

“Accepted. You’re getting good at appeasing me!”

Asahi pressed a finger to his lips and murmured, “Volume.” Not unkindly. He slowly pushed himself up, arching his back and stretching like a huge cat before he plunked back down to sit cross-legged atop the futon. Noya sat up as well, mimicking Asahi. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Asahi’s lips. He made a face.

“Your breath’s awful.”

“Y-You’re so naked,” Asahi stammered. “And sorry – I’ll go brush my teeth.”

Noya glanced down and then back up at Asahi. The older boy’s face was bright red.

“Don’t worry about it. My breath’s awful too. We can be awful together. And yeah, I was naked last night too. If you remember.”

“True…”

“So were you.”

“I know but – but there’s so much light now.”

Noya glanced at the window. Barely gray dawn.

“…Yeah okay. Want me to put some pants on?” he asked, turning his attention back to Asahi. Who was staring straight at his lap. 

Noya laughed and kicked Asahi’s knee.

“Why’re you starin’?!”

“I’m not – just a little it’s – I can’t help it,” Asahi said weakly, his eyes now fixed on the ceiling. “It’s… I mean I feel like. W-We spent the night together so it’s – don’t you feel like. A-Adult? Or mature or – like… like I should go and… and cook you breakfast or something…”

“Oh my god,” Noya said in delight. “That’s so cheesy.”

“I know…”

“And kind of sounds like we had a one night stand or something and you’re trying to get me to stay longer.”

“I kn—wait what.”

Noya laughed and moved forward to sit in Asahi’s lap. He grinned up at him and ran his fingers through his hair. Still slightly damp. Ridiculous, his hair was too thick.

“Only romance scenes in the kinds of movies I watch are like that. Sorta – like the hero’s all gruff and just sleepin’ with the girl because he’s so torn up inside about murdering all those Russian terrorists. And then the girl who’s a secret assassin is all ‘you can’t stay?’ and he’s all like ‘I’d just hurt you’ and she’s like ‘I don’t mind bein’ hurt’ and he’s like ‘well I’d mind.’ And then she tries to slit his throat but is also actually in love with him. Sometimes she tries to make him breakfast first.”

“Sounds… complicated,” Asahi said quietly. He rested his hand cautiously on Noya’s back.

“Yeah. Least favorite part of the movie, always. Too much weird grunting and I always have to scramble to turn the volume down because otherwise my parents will think Ryū and I are watching porn.”

“Sex scenes in movies are awful as a universal rule,” Asahi mumbled. His fingers curled against Noya’s skin and he grimaced. “…You’re. Oddly sweaty.”

“Complete waste of valuable action movie seconds.” Noya crinkled his nose. “And what’s odd about my sweat?”

“Why’s it there when your room is comparatively cool.”

“Oh. I’ve been up a while.”

“…All right.”

“And got a little bored.”

“Understandable.”

“So I did four hundred sit ups.”

“Four – Nishinoya that’s such an irresponsible number.”

“Well…”

Noya shoved his fingers under the top layers of Asahi’s hair to tug gently on the fluffy hairs at the nape of his neck. Asahi bore the handling like a stalwart champion show dog.

“So my jersey number is four.”

“It is.”

“And I thought—” Noya grinned as Asahi shivered. “—feel good? And I thought—”

“Y-Yeah…”

“—I could do four sit ups. Or forty.”

“I do see where this is going but feel free to continue.”

“But then I thought, why stop at forty?”

Asahi pressed his lips together, and Noya knew he was fighting back a smile. 

“Such a small number, forty.”

“Right. So small.”

Asahi leaned forward and pressed his nose against Noya’s.

“And doubling it?”

“Not an option. My number’s not—… eight.”

Asahi bit his lip. Noya could tell even from how close they were. He scowled and lightly pushed against Asahi’s chest.

“What?”

“That was a long pause.”

“I’m slightly distracted here!”

“Shh, I believe you. Don’t yell.”

Noya kept the scowl on his face, but it was a battle hard won. Especially when Asahi nuzzled his cheek and let his hand rest on his thigh. Noya stuck out his tongue.

“…’m not yellin’.”

“No, you’re not.”

Noya shuddered as Asahi’s hand moved up his thigh. He closed his eyes, his fingers still toying with the hair at the base of Asahi’s neck.

“Might start soon though,” he quietly warned. “’Specially if your hand moves any farther north…”

Asahi laughed, deep and pleasantly sleepy in his ear.

“Please no… it’s too early for yelling.” His hand stilled and Noya let out a little whine before flopping backwards. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his legs splay out on the futon.

“You’re right. As usual, you’re right,” he said with a sigh. “We should put the futon away before my family wakes up.”

“That’s a good idea but it’s barely past five. Will your family even be up any time soon?” Asahi asked. He glanced up at the ceiling as though he could see through to the second floor. He carefully grabbed one of the blankets and draped it over Noya’s midsection. He offered Noya a weak smile.

“Just in case.”

Noya laughed but left the blanket where it was.

“No one in my family has x-ray vision.”

“Your family is much less super hero than I expected them to be.”

Noya tugged on Asahi’s arm and pointed to his chest. Asahi obliged and carefully rested his head on Noya’s sternum. He made a little face.

“Sticky.”

“We can take a bath,” Noya said. He closed his eyes, his fingers carding through Asahi’s hair. “After we go for a run…”

“I’m not running on a Sunday, Nishinoya…”

“But—”

“A romantic stroll. At most.”

Noya let out a huff, but he didn’t respond. Asahi said no, he meant no. They could go running tomorrow. When the schedule would have Noya’s back. He idly traced the shell of Asahi’s ear as he felt bit by bit more of Asahi’s weight rest against him. Like a heavy space heater. With surprisingly pointy ribs.

“That’s it?” Asahi asked.

Noya cracked open an eye and peered down at Asahi. All he could really see was the top of his head. It didn’t tell him much.

“What’s it?”

“Nothing. I… ah, I’m just a bit surprised that you gave up so easily,” Asahi said, a note of wariness in his voice. “Usually you hound me until I agree…”

Noya frowned and lightly tugged on Asahi’s hair.

“I don’t hound you.”

“All right. You… very strongly encourage.”

“I do.”

“Sometimes very, very strongly.”

“Yeah.”

“More of a demand than an encourage…”

Noya fell silent, guilt making his stomach hurt. Or maybe it was Asahi’s shoulder digging into his solar plexus.

“…I dunno what you want me to say,” he said finally. “Do you want me to apologize, or—”

“No,” Asahi said quickly. He pushed himself up to stare down at Noya, a panicked look on his face. “No I wasn’t – that wasn’t a guilt trip. I really was surprised you gave up so quickly, that’s all. And honestly a little grateful… ah, I’m sorry, I should have said thank you instead…”

Noya sighed and looped an arm around Asahi’s neck to gently tug him down.

“It’s okay. I’m glad that you’re… I’d say standin’ up for yourself but that makes me sound like a bully.”

“And you’re not a bully,” Asahi agreed quietly. He settled down again against Noya’s chest, pressing his face against his skin. Noya could feel his breath.

“I definitely don’t want to be a bully.”

“Bullies don’t have their victim’s well-being in mind. You’re not a bully.”

That made some of the guilt ease out of Noya’s system. He let out a slow breath.

“Ryū calls me bossy sometimes. So does my family,” he grumbled. “It really sets me off. I’m not bossy I’m just ri—I just know stuff.”

He felt Asahi’s shoulders shake with laughter. He lightly poked Asahi’s neck and demanded, “What?”

“Y-You were going to say ‘I’m just right,’ weren’t you,” Asahi said, his voice choked from suppressed laughter.

“I – well yeah, but I am!” Noya protested, his cheeks red. “Whenever I say somethin’ I feel like I’m right. Why would I say somethin’ I think’s wrong? Sometimes I get corrected and I’d like to think I’m not enough of a jackass that I’d ignore that and keep bein’ wrong. That’d be embarrassin’ but…”

He trailed off, realizing just how arrogant that sounded. And Asahi was still laughing. Noya made a frustrated noise and pressed a hand against his face, his cheeks burning. “Now I feel like the most… the most con… con… concerted? The most concerted guy on the planet,” he mumbled. “That’s pretty unattractive.”

“Conceited.”

“What.”

“It’s pronounced ‘conceited.’”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Noya shivered as he felt Asahi’s lips press against his chest, just short of one of his nipples.

“And you’re not conceited.”

Noya frowned, lightly massaging Asahi’s neck. He couldn’t stop touching him. Even though the conversation was starting to upset him a bit.

“All right.”

He felt Asahi snort.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you think that.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t.”

“Don’t what.”

“Believe you’re not conceited.”

Noya sighed.

“I don’t like thinkin’ about myself, Asahi. I know what I do and don’t want to be. I try to be the thing I want, avoid the thing I don’t. That’s about as deep as that goes. I’m not that complicated. Pretty simple guy.”

“Simple – Nishinoya…”

Asahi sighed, a laugh buried in the noise. Noya clicked his tongue and let his fingers prod Asahi’s back.

“You keep laughin’ at me…”

“I don’t mean to. And I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at… at how different we can perceive the same thing. That’s all.”

“The same thing.”

“Yeah.”

“That thing being… me.”

Asahi nodded and pushed himself up to brush a light kiss to Noya’s lips. He smiled and pressed his hand against Noya’s cheek.

“You. Concerted you.”

“H-Hey… you said I’m not con—that thing,” Noya said weakly, the look of gentle amusement on Asahi’s face making his stomach clench.

The ceiling creaked. The feeling in Noya’s stomach quickly abated as Asahi froze. They both stared up at the ceiling, holding their breath.

Asahi slowly lay back down and tugged the covers up to his chin.

“…I don’t want your family to wake up yet,” he said quietly. “Is that rude to think?”

“Nah,” Noya said, just as quietly. “I love them but right now I really wish we were… I dunno. In a love hotel or somethin’.” He tightened his arm around Asahi’s shoulders, his fingers absently toying with his hair.

“A love hotel?”

“Yeah. Maybe one with lots of weird… slides or something.”

“Slides… they have those?”

“Some.”

“We’re not old enough to rent a room…”

“I know…”

“Maybe we could find one where you can order a room from a machine. Instead of a person…” Asahi rolled onto his side, his leg draped over Noya’s hip. He nuzzled his nose into Noya’s hair. “Or I guess I kind of look old enough…Maybe we could bribe a person…”

Noya laughed, Asahi’s breath tickling his ear.

“Impersonation? Bribery?”

“I know…”

“That’s pretty spy of you, Asahi.”

Another creak made them both fall silent for a moment. Asahi sighed.

“I’ll need spy skills, honestly. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep a straight face in front of your parents…”

“Why’s that?”

“Because we… you know. Last night…”

“Oh. Right.”

“Do they know we’re dating?”

Noya shook his head and opened his eyes. He pushed himself up to meet Asahi’s gaze.

“You want me to tell them?” he asked.

Asahi’s face immediately paled.

“I… I’d rather you not. Right after I just spent the night,” he said weakly. “Then they’ll probably imagine we got up to – to… w-what we got up to.”

Noya snorted.

“It was just a handjob, Asahi.”

Asahi’s expression crumpled and Noya quickly said, “I mean it was a really good one – you know it was great, I’m pretty sure I was vocal about that. But it’s not like we… I dunno, went out in the garden and…” He gestured with his hands. Asahi quickly swatted them down, his face now a molted combination of pink and white.

“No. And stop that.”

Noya laughed and stuck out his tongue.

“Careful or Ryū’ll call you bossy too.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Asahi muttered. “Tanaka respects me.” He frowned. “I think.”

“He does,” Noya assured him. “He wants the ace title as bad as Shōyō but he’s willing to wait for next year. Provided you keep earnin’ it this year.”

Asahi’s expression hardened. He gave a little nod.

“I will. You know I will.”

A thrill raced through Noya at the weight in Asahi’s words. He grinned and bumped his nose against Asahi’s. His ace.

“Yeah,” he said confidently. “You will.”

The upstairs creaked again. They both glanced up at the same time and Noya’s nose slammed into Asahi’s chin. He swore and quickly moved away, clutching at his nose. Asahi immediately panicked.

“Nishinoya! Nishinoya are you all right – I’m so sorry, we were too close toge—”

Noya grabbed a pillow and smushed it against Asahi’s face. Asahi squawked in surprise but then fell silent, other than a muffled “sorry.” A few more creaks and the house settled. Noya slowly lowered the pillow and glanced at his palm. No blood, but his nose was a little tender. Whatever.

“Nishinoya… I’m so—”

“Forgiven,” Noya said immediately. “But let’s clean up before we both jump outta our skin and do some real damage to one another.” He stood, a little frown on his face. “You seen my boxers?”

A moment later the pinstripe underwear landed gently on his face. He heard Asahi gasp and then snicker.

“H-Here. I found them.”

“I can’t believe you break my nose and then disrespect me like this,” Noya complained even as he fought back a smile. He yanked the boxers off his head and quickly tugged them on before lightly kicking Asahi’s side. “Roll! Roll, roll I gotta fold this up!” 

Asahi scrambled out of the way. Noya quickly folded the futon (remembering at the last second to retrieve a few more used tissues from in between the sheets) and shoved it back in his closet. He then plunked down in front of his computer and gestured for Asahi to join him. The older boy settled behind him, propping his chin on his shoulder.

“Let me know if you need me to close my eyes. In case you have any sensitive emails,” Asahi said. “I’d be more than happy to.”

“Nah I don’t care. My inbox isn’t that excitin’,” Noya said. He let his head rest against Asahi’s. “Your head is heavy, by the way. Lotsa brains.”

“Lots of skull. I was a child with an inordinately thick skull,” Asahi murmured. “Jun used to push things off the counter to try and kill me. When we were kids, obviously… I think he didn’t like that Takeshi… paid attention to me too…”

Noya could hear Asahi drifting off. He lightly elbowed him in the stomach.

“Don’t drool on me. And Jun sounds like a dick. If I ever meet him do you want me to be a dick to him back?”

“He was. But no.” Asahi wrapped his arms around Noya’s waist and pressed his face against his shoulder. “I want you to be a good boyfriend. I want my family to like you.”

“I can only really control one of those things,” Noya pointed out. He clicked through a few emails. Mostly spam. Stopped on one from Ryū and started scanning it. “But I am a good boyfriend. Or I try and be.”

“Don’t worry. You are.”

“Good.” Noya patted Asahi’s hand, frowning as he read Ryū’s email. “You’re a good boyfriend too, by the way.”

Asahi didn’t reply, but his arms tightened around Noya’s waist even more. So much so that Noya finally wheezed and plucked a few of Asahi’s arm hairs to get him to back off a bit. Asahi grunted softly in discomfort but loosened his grip.

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine. Why the suffocation? I say somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” Asahi mumbled, his voice nearly inaudible. “Just. Got happy…”

Noya laughed and leaned back against Asahi’s chest, tapping his fingers against his knees. 

“Shoulda guessed! With you, quiet either means you’re really upset or really happy. And I didn’t think you were masochistic enough to be pissed off that you’ve got a good boyfriend.”

Asahi shook his head, his forehead rubbing against Noya’s shoulder. After a moment he lifted his head and peered at Noya’s computer screen.

“Oh… is that – that can’t be from Tanaka?” he said slowly. “I’ve never seen such a long mail…”

“Huh?” Noya glanced at the screen. “Oh, yeah. Yeah we’re both passionate about stuff. And we’re also watchin’ this action series together and days we can’t watch the episodes at the same time we send each other our comments.” Noya stretched out his arm, barely able to reach his computer from his reclined position, and scrolled through Ryū’s email to scan for any relevant information. Longer than usual. “You wanna watch it with us? I can add you to the chat.”

“Oh… no, I don’t want to get between… whatever this is,” Asahi said.

“You wouldn’t be gettin’ between. You’d be contributin’. He’s been like. Super into comin’ up with all kinds of theories about where the show’s goin’. Wants to talk about it all the time so I’m kinda runnin’ out of ideas about how to reply. He’s seen each episode at least five times by now and I don’t remember all the details he does.”

Noya felt Asahi hum in thought and fall silent for a moment. “We’ll see,” was all Asahi said and Noya groaned.

“’We’ll see…’ you sound like my mom whenever I ask her for somethin’ I know I’m never gonna get.”

“Please refrain from comparing me to your mother,” Asahi mumbled. He suddenly leaned forward, staring at the screen. 

“You had plans with Tanaka today?”

Noya nodded and typed a few more words of his reply. “Yeah. But Chikara’s comin’ over so I can probably bail. And our plans weren’t set in stone or anythin’. And he knows it’s our first night – ugh, no no I hate that. Gross. He knows you spent the night. We’ll need to… de… detox?”

“I hope not,” Asahi muttered. “I think the word you’re looking for is maybe decompress? Although that’s… also pretty gross in this context.”

Noya waved a hand. “Whatever. He knows we need time for us to like. Y’know, be together. Since we can’t be at school. What with a whole floor of plaster and stuff separatin’ us…”

“If you’re sure,” Asahi said. “I don’t want to make Tanaka mad. He’s been a little… I don’t know. Intense lately.”

“He won’t get mad at you,” Noya said with a little snort. “He never really gets mad. And he’s always intense. That’s why we get along like we do.”

Asahi fell silent for a moment but then sighed.

“Well you know him worlds better than I do. I’ll defer to your judgment.”

“Yeah. You probably have to move stuff around with Suga and Daichi now all the time too, right?”

“Mm… I guess?” Asahi said. He stood up and stretched. “We don’t do all that much outside of club together. We’re not taking the same courses anymore so our homework’s different. And Suga’s mom – well you know how she is.”

“No?” Noya said. “What’s she like?”

Asahi slowly lowered his arms. 

“…Oh right. You underclassmen probably don’t know.” Asahi rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “She’s – you know Tundra? That really expensive brand?”

“Nope,” Noya said. “Tundra? Like… where moose live?”

“I don’t know about moose habitat, but Tundra’s a designer coat brand,” Asahi explained. “I think they make other kinds of clothes and bags too. Their stuff’s in really expensive department stores. Suga’s mom’s the owner. Or head designer, or both. I don’t really know. He doesn’t talk about it. But she’s kind of severe and… I went over to Suga’s house once to work on homework and she came home. And she’s really… demanding about grades.”

“…Whoa. Suga’s related to a designer?” Noya frowned, rocking back and forth. “I guess that’s why he’s so fancy with like. Coats and stuff. But what’s that gotta do with you guys hanging out?”

Asahi grimaced. “I was… and still am, really. Kind of… cowed by her. And I think Suga is too, a little. He’s super proper around her. When we were first years he called her ‘mother’ instead of ‘mom’ like a normal person. It – I dunno. The whole thing felt. Kind of weird. So now he spends a lot of time with Daichi and his family, but their apartment is really small and three’s a crowd, so…”

“Yeah, three’s a crowd,” Noya repeated slowly. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Asahi blinked.

“It’s an English idiom. It means that three people is generally a bit… awkward…”

“Huh. Did you make that one up?”

“What – no! No it’s really famous! You should have learned it last year!” Asahi insisted, his cheeks red. “And anyway Daichi’s dad scares me too. He’s some military hot shot and… anyway. We hang out sometimes and get lunch or food after school or go to the arcade or bookstore but I haven’t had to rearrange my plans with them or anything…”

“What about your other friends, then? Like the guys at the rock climbing center?” Noya scowled. “Minus that one guy. I don’t wanna talk about him.”

“Who – oh.” Asahi hummed in thought and then shrugged. “I haven’t been there in a while. I suppose they’re doing all right.”

“Huh.” Noya frowned. “So what… what kind of stuff do you do? Besides hang out with me?”

“…You know what I do,” Asahi said slowly. “I go to school, club. Go home and do homework, watch TV, read, hike, take pictures…”

“All alone?”

“…I’m… unless our school and club experiences vastly differ even though we’re in the same general… area… there are other people in school with me. And club too…”

“No I meant – like your hobbies. It’s all stuff you do alone? Since you don’t go to the center anymore.”

“Oh.” Asahi shrugged and headed over to his bag to start pulling out some clothes. “I guess. I never thought of it as being 'alone.'"

Noya sat cross-legged in front of his computer, watching Asahi tug on his jeans, his T-shirt.

"You like being with just you?"

Asahi slowly smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt. Noya could see a little frown on his face that let him know the question was, perhaps, not an entirely welcome one. But then Asahi let out a breath and turned and there was a smile on his lips instead.

"I'm... growing on me." He made a face. "Which sounds horrible but you know what I mean. I hope."

"Yeah! Yeah, I do!" Noya said enthusiastically, relieved. "I used to like being with just me. And then it – it got to be too much for a bit, and that sucked. Too much time with just me tends to cloud my perspective. I think that's what my mom called it. I dunno, she used some fancy word but I think she's right. And now that I've got you I feel like... yeah, like there's no need to go off and think 'cause instead I can just talk with you about it. Right?"

Asahi's cheeks turned pink but he nodded and said, "Of course. Any time." He bent down to shove his pajamas back in his bag, leaving Noya to drag himself over to his closet and start getting ready himself. A soft noise made him glance over his shoulder. Asahi was sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him, fingers reaching towards his toes. Noya pulled his T-shirt down over his head and moved to sit in front of Asahi, pressing the balls of their feet together.

"You can talk with me about stuff too, you know," he pointed out. "Just a reminder."

"I know," Asahi said. He flexed his feet back and then made a little noise of pain. "I hate that stretch," he muttered, his toes curling. "And I think I know what your mother means. About what you're like when you're alone."

"Yeah?" Noya asked, pointing his feet a bit to get Asahi to stretch more. It was good for him. Despite the twisted grimace on his face.

Asahi's lip twitched but he managed to keep his voice even. "I think she meant you get introspective. To a detrimental degree." He smiled at Noya, his eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that made him look as though he understood a joke with a rather grim punchline. "Which when I met you wasn't something I thought we would ever have in common. You vocalize everything so... so knowing that you... you struggle with thoughts like I do. It makes you more human."

Noya slowly withdrew his feet, embarrassment making it difficult to say anything other than a little "Huh."

"It's a good thing," Asahi insisted. "I – no offense but I don't think I'd really want to date the you that acts like you do around Tanaka and Hinata. I like that you as well, obviously, but it... it would've been difficult to connect if that's... if that was the extent of you. Considering how I am."

The words stung a little.

"I'm still the same person," Noya said. "I don't get what you mean by that. I'm not someone different – how I interact with people, like... isn't that what I am?"

Asahi sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. The noise was probably directed at himself.

"Yes. That’s a large part of you, but the problem – for me the problem is that... you're very... you interact with everyone. Even people who don't like you that much like Tsukishima, you still interact with them and look out for them. You're really loud and playful and that's... that's really great but in public you're... democratic."

Noya blinked. Democratic. Like a prime minister?

"What?"

"I mean – I... I'm... not a great person," Asahi said quietly. His knees drew themselves up to his chest like a plate of armor. "I want... I'd rather have a ... a monarchy when it comes to certain relationships. I like feeling special and –”

"You are special," Noya immediately insisted, a bit irritated. First prime ministers now monarchs. Asahi could be frustratingly opaque. "Do I need to draw up a contract or somethin' more permanent to drive that home because I'm gettin' kinda tired –”

"No!" Asahi said quickly, and a bit too loudly. The upstairs creaked again and Asahi winced. He waited a moment, his head cocked to the side as he listened for other rumblings upstairs before he said quietly, "No, I know. But it's difficult, when you don't like yourself. And it helps when other people... when one person makes you feel like you're worth more than all the others. It’s – it’s selfish and stupid but I couldn't help it..."

Noya frowned, not really liking the sound of that.

"I'm not going to narrow my whole world to just you –”

"Couldn't help it, Nishinoya. Past tense."

Asahi's words were gentle, but weary. The two fell silent. The birds outside in the garden grew louder. More insistent. 

After a bit Asahi smiled and prodded Noya's foot with his own.

"I like that you think everyone is worth something special," he said. "I like that... that being around you has made me want to be around myself more. And I feel kind of selfish for changing so much because of your influence when I... I haven't given you anything in return."

"Asahi –” Noya started to say, but Asahi shook his head.

"I really don’t want to give you anything," he continued. "I don’t think I have anything worth giving. Which I know means... it means I need to learn to like myself enough that I wouldn't mind if you took on some of my... my habits or whatever. But for right now, I... uh..."

Asahi ducked his head and mumbled, "I'm still – the fact that our relationship is what it is still shocks me. Like last night I woke up – there was some animal in the garden and it scared the hell out of me – and after I remembered where I was and calmed down I rolled over and almost squished you, to be honest, but then I... I just... stayed still. Because it keeps hitting me over and over that you... that you want... to be with me. And even though I, uh... I really... had to pee and was taking a bit to psyche myself up to leave your room and try and find your bathroom in the dark I still... I have to convince myself every so often that it's not a trick. Especially with things like... like last night..."

"Asahi , I don't even know how I would go about tricking you with something like that," Noya said slowly. "Like a... a fake... that?"

"What – no, not – Nishinoya, no," Asahi groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I meant emotionally..."

"I don't know how I'd trick you with that either!"

"I guess my subconscious is operating under the assumption that you're a terrific actor!"

"My peers booed me off the stage at my kindergarten play."

"Well my – my subconscious was not aware of your thespian failures. I'm sorry."

Noya waved a hand to show he wasn't bothered and then fell silent, trying to digest everything Asahi had said. Which was hard because it had been a lot, and it was early. And Asahi had a way of being cagey and vague and sometimes talking to him felt like reading a psychoanalytical novel from the turn of the century. All big words and introspection. Noya leaned forward to tug on Asahi's T-shirt. 

"Can I sum up."

Asahi nodded.

"Please."

"Okay." Noya scrunched his nose as he concentrated. "You like yourself. More than you used to."

"Correct."

"In part because of me."

"Also correct."

"You're... jealous of Ryū?"

Asahi frowned and then shook his head, crossing his arms in an X shape.

"Ugh – you don't like how hyper I am around Ryū?"

Asahi shook his head again and added a quiet 'bzz' sound.

Noya groaned and flopped forward. He rubbed his forehead against Asahi's chest.

"Help."

"I like that you're more than just... loud," Asahi said after a moment's thought. Noya felt his hand rest on his back. "I like you. Because there’s a lot of different you to like."

Noya frowned but remained still, not wanting to dislodge his boyfriend's hand.

"I'm still kinda mystified."

"That's okay."

"But you like me?"

He felt Asahi chuckle. The noise sounded oddly grown up.

"Very much."

"...Well okay."

"Seriously, don’t – please don't worry about it."

"Yeah. All right."

"I babble."

"You do."

"Especially around you."

"Really?"

Asahi tapped his fingers against his back. Yes.

"Why?"

"You make me nervous."

Noya pushed himself up, letting his hand stay against Asahi's chest as he frowned up at him.

"Okay I feel like that would make you not like me. Who wants to date someone who makes them nervous?"

Asahi raised his hand and Noya groaned.

"Asahi!"

"I've gotten used to a nervous-filled life!" Asahi protested. "My existence feels empty without it now. And I... I've learned that not all nerves are bad..." He stared at his hand, his fingers curling in on themselves. "Sometimes they push you. And you end up... you end up different."

Noya watched Asahi's fingers move. He could see the tendons in his hand.

"Not too different, though. Right?"

"No," Asahi said. He let his hand rest on Noya's knee and pushed himself forward to brush a kiss to Noya's lips. "Not too different."

The kiss made little hot sparks run down Noya's back. He nodded and was about to reach out and tug Asahi down for a more involved sort of spark when the whole house shuddered. Asahi jerked backwards, his face pale.

"Earthquake?"

"Close," Noya said. "Suzu."

He quickly moved away from Asahi. A moment later the door to his room slammed open so hard the framed calligraphy pieces nearly jumped off their wall hooks. Suzu stood in the doorway. Her hair was wild and her eyes gleamed with purpose. She darted forward and tackled her brother, one of her feet connecting with Asahi's shin. She ignored his grunt of pain and stared pleading up at Noya.

"Yū! Yū, pancakes, Yū! Pancakes and pirates you promised!"

Noya lightly ruffled her hair and reached out to pat Asahi’s shin (the other boy was nursing it and trying not to look too pained).

“I told you next weekend, remember? I’ve got a friend over,” he said. “Unless Asahi doesn’t mind—”

Suzu immediately changed targets. She sat in front of Asahi, her hands folded perfectly in her lap. She smiled up at him. The effect was slightly ruined by the impatient scritch scratch of her long nails against her butterfly-patterned leggings.

“Mr. Asahi? Would you mind if my brother made pancakes and then we watched cartoons?” she asked sweetly.

Asahi pushed aside his hair to stare nervously down at the child. 

“Nishinoya can cook – no, I don’t mind,” he said.

Noya shoved Asahi.

“Pancakes are barely cooking! You just… you know.” He mimed mixing batter and pouring it into a pan before giving Asahi a pointed look. “Not hard.”

“Not hard,” Asahi echoed. He bit his lip. “…But the other week at my house you… you asked me how to crack eggs—”

“You do it a weird way! Like—” Noya smashed his hands together. “With two of them! At once! That’s amazing and kind of irresponsible.”

Suzu was studying Asahi with a critical eye. She suddenly tugged on his shirt.

“You cook with Yū?” 

She smiled.

“Please?”

Asahi blinked.

“Er, I… I can…” he said slowly. “Both of us?”

“Yes,” Suzu said. “Normally I help but today I want to see the egg smashing – I want you to help. Please.”

“That’s the most she’s said please in a super long time. You’d better listen to her,” Noya warned.

Asahi’s cheeks turned an attractive molten red. He finally nodded and stood. His large hand stretched out timidly towards Suzu and she latched onto it immediately. Noya caught Asahi’s wince as her long nails dug into her skin, but he bore the pain gracefully.

They headed into the kitchen and Noya started getting out all the ingredients. It was barely light outside – just a few dustings of rosy gray – so he hit his shins a few times.

Asahi made a little noise and moved to help but Suzu growled and held him in place. He gave up quickly.

“Should I turn on a light, or –”

“No lights,” Noya said.

“No lights,” Suzu confirmed.

“They make Suzu angry when it’s this early,” Noya explained.

“Oh,” said Asahi. He clearly had a strong enough sense of self-preservation to not bother asking why. At least as long as Suzu’s nails were embedded in his skin.

Bowls and pans strewn all over the counter and stove carefully lit, Noya turned to Asahi. He held out the carton of eggs.

“All right, Asahi. If you please.”

Asahi extracted his hand from Suzu’s to take the eggs from Noya. The moment she was free of her charge, Suzu vaulted up to sit on the counter, staring expectantly at Asahi.

“I don’t think he can do it,” she said. “I think the shell’s gonna go in.”

Noya scoffed and leaned subtly against Asahi. It made the older boy’s hands shake. His thumbnail scraped against the eggshell. 

“I’ve seen him do it dozens of times. No shell’s ever gone in,” Noya bragged.

“Watch today be the day,” Asahi muttered. He let out a weak ‘oof’ when Noya’s elbow dug into his ribs.

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

“Apology.”

“Sor—thank you.”

Noya grinned.

“Better.”

Suzu’s dark brown eyes fixed on Asahi’s face for a moment before slowly sliding down to stare at her brother. 

“…Yū?”

“You’re gonna miss the big egg-crackin’ moment, Suz,” Noya warned, watching as Asahi held the eggs carefully over the bowl.

“Oh. Right.” Suzu tugged her legs up against her chest and stared fixedly at the bowl. Whatever had piqued her interest a moment ago was forgotten.

“Do it,” she commanded.

Asahi exhaled slowly. He brought the two eggs together.

Tap.

Crack.

The bright orange yolks slid from their shells and landed in the bottom of the bowl. Suzu made a noise and grabbed the bowl to inspect it. She stuck her head so far inside Noya was sure she was going to get yolk on her face. But when she sat back up her skin was clean.

“No shell.” She sounded almost disappointed.

“Told you he could do it.”

“Oh thank god.”

Noya laughed and lightly kicked Asahi’s leg as he passed, heading to the fridge.

“You’re acting like it’s such a big deal!”

“Well, I… you know.” Asahi moved to help Noya retrieve things from the fridge. Butter and milk.

“I know what?” Noya asked. He patted Asahi’s arm in thanks.

“…I want to impress your family,” Asahi mumbled. He looked over his shoulder at Suzu, who was still eyeing the bowl suspiciously. “Even the little ones.”

“I mean, we’re all kind of short—”

“Your siblings, Nishinoya.”

“Oh. Oh, right.”

Noya grabbed the stool next to the sink and dragged it over to the cabinets so he could reach the pancake mix and sugar. He felt Asahi come up behind him. A subtle hand rested against his hip to steady him. It made him flinch in surprise and Asahi quickly pulled away. He cleared his throat and said awkwardly, “Need help?”

“Nah, I got it,” Noya said. Asahi was so touchy. He still wasn’t used to it. He waved the bag of mix to demonstrate his got-it-ness and then called out, “Suz, head’s up!” and tossed it across the room. Suzu let out a barking noise and caught the mix before slamming the package into one of the bowls. She held up her arms.

“Goal!”

Noya laughed and hopped off the stool to join his sister, who was trying to use her teeth to open the mix.

“Asahi, can you get the scissors? They’re in that drawer over there,” he said, pointing off to the side. The sound of Asahi rummaging around the junk drawer looking for the scissors filled the kitchen. Accompanied by his occasional grunts of pain and or surprise when things like thumb tacks and staples found their way into his skin.

“Are you sure they’re in here?”

“Yes –” Noya looked over his shoulder. “Oh, no not that drawer. Next to it. You know what, never mind. Grab that knife, open this, I’ve gotta measure the milk. Suzu can’t be trusted with liquids.” He shoved the mix towards Asahi who took it with a little frown. He carefully sawed the top open with a serrated knife and, following Noya’s wordless instructions, emptied the contents into the bowl.

“Mr. Asahi?”

Asahi accidentally jostled the bowl and a cloud of pancake mix erupted skyward. Suzu didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were still trained on him.

“Y-Yes?”

“Mr. Asahi,” Suzu said again, her voice patient. “Why do you let Yū boss you around so much? Mom gets really mad when he talks to her or Dad like that.”

Asahi quickly covered his hand with his mouth, but a little snort escaped anyway. 

“Nishinoya, you boss your mom around?”

“What – no!” Noya said in indignation. He grabbed a spoon and started to stir, but not before giving Suzu a warning look. “We didn’t used to get along, that’s all. Different life philosophies or somethin’.”

“They yelled a lot,” Suzu told Asahi, speaking as though Noya weren’t there. “Yū would run away from home all the time. But me and Taka’d usually find him under the penguin slide in the park.”

“I liked that slide. But it did tend to distract me from my greater goals.”

Noya dropped a pad of butter into the pan and poked it with his finger to get it to melt faster. 

Asahi made a soft noise in the back of his throat. Noya could picture his expression. Pinched. Asahi looked pinched a lot. Meant he wanted to ask something but was too nervous to voice it. Noya tipped his head back to check. 

Yeah. Pinched.

“What’d we fight about?” he guessed. Asahi nodded and Noya sighed. He waved a dismissive hand again before grabbing a ladle and starting on pancake number one.

“High school, mostly,” he said. “In my second year of junior high I really didn’t want to go. And in the first half of my third year of junior high, I really, really didn’t want to go. And Mom wasn’t about to let me quit just because I’m a dumbass. But there was other stuff I wanted to do.”

Suzu giggled and tapped her fingernails together.

“Dumbass,” she mimicked. “Dumbass dumbass.”

Noya clicked his tongue and expertly flipped the pancake before brandishing the spatula warningly at his sister.

“Suz, remember? What’d you promise?”

Her smile fell and she gave a childish sigh of irritation.

“No Yū words until I’m fourteen,” she mumbled. She looked up at Asahi as though she were searching for camaraderie in the face of her bossy brother. Asahi gave her a little smile.

“So Nishinoya’s always been bossy?” he stage whispered. Suzu nodded solemnly. 

“Do you get tired of him bossing you around, Mr. Asahi? Do you yell at him like our mom does?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Noya saw Asahi fall still as though he’d been hit with a tranquilizer. He finally shook his head. His long, brown hair covered half his face and he brushed it aside absently.

“We fight,” he admitted. “Friends… friends are going to fight. Because we’re different people. Who see things differently. Sometimes better and sometimes worse than the other person. Sometimes in ways that aren’t better or worse.”

Suzu nodded solemnly. 

“So you’ve yelled?” she pressed. “Your voice is small like a bear cub so it’s hard to think about you yelling. ‘Specially ‘cause Yū’s so loud.”

“I’ve yelled,” Asahi said. Quiet like a bear cub. “I have. And I’ve lied, too. I haven’t always been a good friend.”

Noya prodded the pancake, keeping his back to his sister and Asahi. He’d known his family was going to grill Asahi. That they’d suspect something would be different with him. He just assumed it would be his mom and dad who’d do the interrogating, not Suzu. Although she had always been the rabble rouser of the family. He should’ve seen it coming.

Suzu made a little noise to show she’d heard. She gave Asahi a calculating look. “Did you make him run away?”

Asahi sighed. Noya felt the weight in his breath. He reached out to lightly pat his sister’s knee with the spatula.

“Go easy on Asahi, okay, Suz?” he said. “The stuff he’s talkin’ about happened a long time ago.”

“…You don’t go easy on him,” Suzu muttered, obviously miffed that Noya had interrupted.

“Well yeah, but he’s my friend. I know when to stop—”

“It’s okay, Nishinoya.” Asahi said. “And no, Suzu, I didn’t make him run away.” He lightly poked her nose and she laughed and batted his hand away.

“Stoppit!”

“Can I ask you questions now, Miss Suzu?”

Suzu immediately clamed up. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, even as she said loftily, “I don’t got anythin’ to hide. You can ask.”

Asahi bit his lip – probably to keep from laughing – and gave the girl a solemn nod.

“What’s your favorite thing about Nishinoya?”

Suzu slowly lowered her arms. She gave Asahi a blank stare.

“…Huh?”

“Your favorite thing about Nishinoya,” Asahi said again. “I know you don’t like that he’s bossy, so what do you like?”

Suzu pursed her lips, obviously not too fond of the question.

“You’re kind of mushy, aren’t you?”

Asahi’s chin was trembling from trying not to laugh.

“Mushy?”

“Ugh… like how Taka can get mushy,” Suzu muttered. She slid off the counter and lightly nudged Asahi’s leg.

“Can you move, please?”

Asahi wordlessly stepped aside. Suzu padded out of the kitchen and into the living room, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to get the TV set up!”

“’Kay!” Noya called back. He added the pancake to the stack of done ones and pushed the plate towards Asahi. Who was still visibly fighting off laughter. Noya raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“N-Nothing – should I take these into the living room?” Asahi said.

“Asahi, why’re you laughin’?!”

Asahi pressed a hand against his face.

“The family resemblance is strong.”

“…What—”

“You and Suzu are very alike.”

Noya immediately blanched. 

“I’d ask you to clarify but I’m afraid of the answer.”

“You’re both stubborn, you do only what you want to do, but can get away with it because you’re upfront about it,” Asahi said, ticking each thing off on his fingers. His expression darkened a bit. “And you’re both good at asking me really prying questions I’d rather not think about.”

“…Yeah well, our mom is a lawyer. Blame her,” Noya said. He picked up the plate and jabbed it against Asahi’s sternum. “Here, take. I’ll get the honey and stuff. Suzu’s going to start screaming in a second if we don’t get going. The show’s about to start.”

“Ow – what show?” Asahi said even as he obediently took the pancakes and started for the living room.

“Pirates. I’ve gotta clean up or my dad’ll be ticked. Gimme just a sec.”

“Pirates… all right. But please – please… don’t leave me alone with her too long?” Asahi said. “I think I pissed her off.”

“You did, but that just means she’ll ignore you.” Noya shooed Asahi out of the kitchen and quickly shoved everything into the micro dishwasher his parents had splurged on last year. He plugged it into the sink and made sure it wasn’t going to explode with soap like it sometimes did before he headed into the living room. 

Asahi and Suzu were seated on opposite ends of the couch, neither making eye contact with the other. Noya vaulted over the back and landed in between them. He nudged Suzu’s side, pointing to the pancakes. She wordlessly grabbed one and started gnawing on it, her eyes glued to the TV as the show started. Confident that she’d be distracted, Noya moved a bit closer to Asahi. He let his fingers brush against the back of Asahi’s hand.

“I know you’re not big into breakfast, but do you want one?” he asked quietly. “You don’t have to eat it like Suzu’s doin’. I can get you a fork and stuff.”

Asahi’s eyes flicked to the side to watch as Suzu poured a spoonful of honey straight into her upturned mouth. A piece of pancake was balanced on her tongue.

“…No, thank you,” Asahi said. “Maybe just some coffee later.”

“All we’ve got is instant,” Noya warned.

“That’s fi—”

“Shh! Yū! Mr. Asahi!”

Suzu pointed one finger at them and then at the TV, her eyes narrowed in a sharp glare. Noya and Asahi both fell silent and Suzu, appeased, went back to watching her show.

The glow of the television gradually receded as more and more sunlight came into the room. Noya glanced at Suzu and made sure she was sufficiently preoccupied before he slowly leaned down to rest his head against Asahi’s shoulder. He felt Asahi tense, but before his boyfriend could say anything and give them away Noya reached up and covered Asahi’s mouth with his hand. He pointed wordlessly to Suzu, who had slid off the couch and scooted closer to the television. Asahi let out a slow breath, and after a moment more rested his chin against the top of Noya’s head. 

They sat like that, tense and trying to pretend otherwise, until the house shook again. Footsteps down the stairs. Noya sat up. He didn’t bother moving away, though. Asahi was warm and he didn’t care. And it was hilarious to hear Asahi curse softly when he realized he was stuck between Noya and the armrest. Asahi gave Noya an alarmed look that Noya had no trouble reading.

We’re still touching.

Noya raised an eyebrow.

So.

Asahi bit his lip.

So – was he really okay with his parents finding out? They hadn’t talked about it…

Noya shook his head.

He didn’t care.

But the slight tremor of Asahi’s shoulder let Noya know he did.

With a little sigh Noya moved away from Asahi. He patted his cheek and then grimaced.

“You need to shave.”

“Thank you –I mean yes, I do. I will. But thank you. For moving,” Asahi said quickly. “I just – I want them to like me—”

“I get it.”

“Soon, I promise, but not—”

“Asahi.” Noya gave his boyfriend a grin and flashed him a thumbs up. “It’s fine. They don’t have to know everythin’ right this second.”

Asahi sighed with relief and returned the smile. His was a bit shaky.

A moment later Noya’s parents walked through the doorway, still in their pajamas. Taka was slung over Ria’s shoulder. She set him down on the couch – he was half asleep – and then gave Noya’s head a quick pat.

“You made Suzu her pancakes?”

“Yup,” Noya said, shifting a bit to let Taka crawl into his lap. “Asahi helped.”

“Thanks, Mr. Azumane,” Kōyō said with a grin. “Ria and I are gonna make coffee. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please,” Asahi said, quickly standing up. “Do you need help?”

Kōyō let out an overly dramatic groan and flopped down on the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Kōyō said. “Ria and I aren’t morning people. This is pretty much torture – Yū, can you show him where the coffee stuff is?”

Noya rolled his eyes and stood up, depositing Taka onto the floor.

“Why’d you offer if you were just gonna make Asahi do it?”

“I had to dredge up my father figure persona or your friend would’ve thought we’re bad parents,” Kōyō said, his arm still covering his eyes. 

“But we’re not,” Ria said. She lay down on the couch as well and pressed a pillow against her face. “We’re just tired. Mr. Azumane understands, I’m sure.”

“Of course,” Asahi said immediately. “Nishinoya and I can, uh… we’ll make you coffee—”

“Two sugars.”

“Milk and sugar, thanks. Don’t forget one for Granddad.”

Noya tugged Asahi into the kitchen, muttering, “They enjoy actin’ like I haven’t done this every day since I was five.”

“Your parents let you make coffee when you were five?” Asahi asked. 

“Yeah. It’s just usin’ the hot water dispenser and instant grounds. A three year old could probably do it.”

“I see.”

Noya pressed on Asahi’s shoulders to get him to stay still and out of the way. He quickly got four cups of coffee made. When he handed Asahi his – black – he let his finger lightly scratch Asahi’s wrist. Asahi’s ears went red, but he didn’t comment. Noya gave him a wink (which made Asahi roll his eyes) and then took the other three mugs out into the living room. He set them on the coffee table.

“Here. Asahi and I are gonna go in my room now.”

Ria sat up and pushed the pillow off her face. She made a grab for her mug but then quickly changed trajectory, tugging on Noya’s shirt instead to pull him down and kiss his cheek. Noya gagged and struggled to escape as he whined, “Mom! Quit it!”

Ria laughed but let him go so she could pick up her mug. She sipped demurely at her coffee.

“I hope you’re planning on doing homework in there,” she said. She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need to remind you about the contract. No homework means no coming with us to Okinawa this New Year’s…”

“…I know,” Noya muttered. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“Do you mind settin’ up the stuff for Granddad for me?” Kōyō asked. He still hadn’t moved from his prone position. “I’ll take care of everythin’ else later…” 

“Yeah, I can do it.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

Noya gave his father’s prone form a little salute. He snagged a pancake from the depleted supply and the extra mug of black coffee and gestured for Asahi to follow him. He headed into his room and closed the door behind them.

“I’ve gotta get the offerin’ ready – won’t take long. You wanna say hi?”

Asahi glanced nervously into the other room at the altar, where Noya’s grandfather’s picture was propped up in front of the closed cabinet doors. 

“I… okay,” he said quietly. “…Won’t… will he be uh. Mad?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Considerin’ the stuff we did in my room last night,” Noya said with a shrug.

“Oh. Right.”

Noya clapped Asahi on the shoulder as he passed him to sit in front of the modest altar. He placed the pancake and mug of coffee beside the picture of his grandfather and then patted the other cushion.

“C’mon. Sit.”

Asahi shuffled forward and reluctantly settled down. He clasped his hands nervously in front of his chest. Noya stared at him.

“…What’re you doing.”

“I’m – I don’t know,” Asahi said weakly. “I haven’t done this since my grandmother died…”

“Oh. I don’t bother with that formal stuff,” Noya said. “But you can if you want. My dad’s really the only one that does the whole ritual thing. I just say hi, usually.”

He gave a little bow towards the altar and then straightened up. The altar doors were closed. He hadn’t opened them in a long time. His dad used to tell him not to. Probably worried he’d break one of the statues or light the house on fire with the incense sticks.

Noya reached out to scoot the mug and pancake a bit closer to his grandfather’s picture.

“Hey, Grandpa. Good mornin’. Sorry the coffee’s shit. Dad bought the store brand again even though I told him not to—oh, right.” He glanced at Asahi. “You might wanna get sugar for your coffee. It’s gonna taste bad.”

“I – shouldn’t you… focus or – okay,” Asahi said. His hands were fidgety. Noya pursed his lips, debating whether Asahi potentially would freak out more and then decided to risk it. He grabbed Asahi’s hand and tugged it into his lap before turning back to the picture.

“And sorry about last night, too. I dunno if… I mean I don’t think you’d be mad. But it’s been a while since I actually talked to you, so… I guess I should introduce you. Asahi’s my – well. You know.”

Noya fell silent. His grandfather was smiling in his picture but it was still making Noya feel uneasy. He hated living in the room next to the altar. Didn’t really like keeping pictures of dead people around. No matter how casually he acted. Or how often his dad had explained to him why. What pictures were for. What statues were for. He wanted to say that he didn’t see the point. But he heard his father’s voice in the late mornings often enough to know he couldn’t say that. Not without there being a hint of a lie left.

And he didn’t lie.

Noya rubbed a hand over his face and then turned to glance up at Asahi. His boyfriend looked uncomfortable.

“Asahi.”

Asahi’s eyes met his.

Noya tightened his grip around Asahi’s fingers.

“I know I just said that my parents don’t have to know everythin’, but I feel… I feel weird. This is the first time I’ve not told them stuff.”

Asahi remained silent for a long time. He finally nodded and gave Noya’s hand a little squeeze in return.

“Do what you need to,” he said quietly. “I won’t be mad.”

Noya let out a loud whoosh of air.

“Okay… okay.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Not today, though. Don’t worry.”

“…Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Noya gave his grandfather’s picture one last perfunctory bow and then stood. He tugged on Asahi’s shirt and the other boy scrambled to his feet so quickly he nearly fell over. 

“Can we go back to your room – your half of the room?” Asahi asked.

Noya nodded and threaded his fingers through Asahi’s. He slid the fusuma door shut and was embarrassed to find that he breathed easier once it was done and his grandfather and the altar were isolated on the other side. He flopped down on the floor, nearly taking Asahi with him.

“Sorry – wasn’t really expectin’, y’know.” He gestured vaguely. “Emotions.”

“Those can happen, yeah,” Asahi said. He settled down next to Noya on the floor. “Do you, uh… any idea what kind of… emotions?”

Noya grunted, not wanting to think about it any more than he had to.

“Guilt. I think it’s mostly guilt.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t like hidin’ stuff.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I’m bad at it.”

Asahi said nothing.

Noya pushed himself up on his elbow and gave Asahi’s jaw a quick kiss before grabbing his bag.

“Mom’s gonna poke her head in here in a bit,” he warned. “So I can pretend to do homework and then we can get out of here and go to the arcade or somethin’.”

“Or you could actually do homework,” Asahi suggested. He quickly held up his hands in surrender at the look of utter betrayal Noya gave him.

“It was just a suggestion!”

“A bad one! You don’t even do your homework, Asahi.”

“What – yes I do! Who told you that?”

“Suga. Daichi too.”

“We’re not even in the same class – we’re not even on the same track! They’re college prep!”

The door to Noya’s room suddenly slid open. Ria stared down at them, her cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled.

“Hard at work?”

Noya grabbed the first notebook he could find and waved it towards his mother, scowling.

“Yes, look! Real homework stuff – go bother Dad!”

Ria just raised an eyebrow and slowly slid the door shut. Noya made an irritated noise and dumped the contents of his bag on his floor.

“Startin’ to feel less guilty,” he muttered. “Kinda tempted to sneak into the garden and do stuff again. Piss off all my ancestors. Living and dead.”

“Or we could just do homework,” Asahi suggested again. “If we buckle down it would only take a couple of hours.” He lightly rubbed Noya’s knee. “Then we could go out and get lunch? And your mom would be happy… and it might help with your guilt. And um… maybe mine… too. A little…”

Noya slumped forward until his cheek was pressed against the tatami. He grunted and reached out blindly for Asahi’s hand.

“You’re so wise,” he mumbled. “So wise and evil. Fine, we’ll homework.”

The floor vibrated. His phone.

“Asahi…”

“I’ve got it.”

Noya felt Asahi shift forward to grab his phone. His limbs were so long he didn’t need to move his other hand from Noya’s knee.

“My code’s—”

“I remember.”

Noya fell silent, both impressed and a little weirded out. He’d told Asahi his code only once before. He finally cleared his throat.

“Either you have a good memory, or…”

“I have a good memory. I’m also training for black ops. The mail’s from Tanaka.”

The cool plastic of his phone case gently bumped against Noya’s head. He pushed himself up and grabbed his phone, leaning on Asahi as he read.

/yo, you get my mail last night? i know it was all special kissy kissy love time but just wanted to make sure./

Noya wrinkled his nose in distaste but quickly typed back, /yeah, i did. must've forgotten to hit reply. sorry about that, man./

Asahi’s fingers were trailing up and down his arm. It was slightly distracting. Noya tilted his head back, bumping his nose against the crook of Asahi’s neck. He felt his phone buzz. Ignored it in favor of the soft gasp Asahi made. He pressed his hand against Asahi’s chest, counting the ragged breaths that brushed against his neck with each little touch of his lips. He grinned and curled his fingers, his nail catching slightly on one of Asahi’s nipples.

“I didn’t even really kiss you.”

Asahi’s hand went to the small of his back. Pulled him close.

“Doesn’t seem to matter. Can they hear—”

“TV’s still on.”

“So we can…”

“Quiet.”

Asahi hiccupped. A stifled groan as Noya’s hand ran down his stomach.

“I-I’m trying…”

Noya slowly rolled his hips against Asahi’s thigh.

“Quietly…”

“…Oh…”

Asahi’s hand cupped his cheek. He leaned in, lips still stained with coffee. Pressed softly against Noya’s, then a bit more insistently. It tasted bitter. Instant coffee and no sugar and still a bit of guilt. And Noya made a show of gagging and an even bigger show of apologizing when Asahi looked hurt. Then footsteps drawing close, a scramble for pens and notebooks that needn’t have happened because the footsteps continued into the other half of the room. There came the soft, reverberating chime of the bell, the droning of a sutra. Asahi and Noya glanced silently at each other. Apologetic, chagrined. Excited, barely tempered. Noya quickly leaned in to give Asahi one last kiss, his head light from how natural the movement felt. Like practicing anything until you hit the joy of instinctual response.

He finally dragged his small table over and sat down next to Asahi, resting his head on his shoulder as the older boy explained in a patient, kind voice how the subjunctive worked in English. Every so often their knees, their toes, arms, fingers would brush against one another. And lessons would stop, put on hold until the next set of footsteps pulled them apart.

Homework took about twice as long as it should have. Ryū’s mail got answered – quick and promising more later – and then they were out the door, Asahi’s hair in a messy braid Suzu had dared Noya to do and dared Asahi to wear outside. Glittery butterfly hair clips Asahi had tried to refuse but were ultimately foisted on him were stowed away one by one in his pocket as they walked towards the train station.

The early-summer air made Noya’s hair stand on end with excitement. Potential of the unknown, that’s what it was. The whole of the train tracks, of the ground, the island stretching out in front of them on and on until it plunged into the ocean. Unknowns. What would make Asahi laugh most. What would make him roll his eyes, what would make him duck his head in pleased embarrassment, what would make him fiddle with the bracelet Noya had lent him because Asahi could dress so much cooler if he added more studs and spiky stuff and what would make Asahi look at him. What would make him look only at him and forget the train tracks, the ground the island stretching out in front of them and how deep and terrifying the ocean could be.

The answers came. Every time Asahi’s hand brushed against his. Every excuse they found to touch, fraternal, platonic. And the other, desperate sort. Reserved for the dark corners of the arcade’s top floor where one lonely gambler sat glued to his machine, oblivious to their presence.

Noya had Asahi pressed up against the wall, tucked behind a defunct racing game and out of sight. They both stifled laughter until things weren’t really funny anymore, not in that same way. Noya’s eyes fell closed, tongue moving to wet his lips without thinking. Asahi’s hands were on his chest, his belt, fingers delving between jean clad thighs. Asahi’s voice, quiet and cautiously teasing, holding glimpses of the dark sort of mischief that made Noya realize in a soft gasp of his name just how lucky he was to have found this person.

They were in the arcade a long time.

Later, sitting outside in front of a small café, Noya was preoccupied with stealing Asahi’s fries one by one as they argued about the merits of DPS versus tank classes. Then Asahi glanced at his watch. And Noya was suddenly aware of the long shadows turning his skin cold. Of orange and rose clouds dusting the sky.

He slowly put the fry back and pressed his face against Asahi’s arm.

For a long while neither of them spoke. Noya squeezed his eyes shut. He could smell Asahi’s cologne. The laundry detergent he used. The stuff that made his whole house smell clean.

“…I don’t want you to say it.”

Asahi fiddled with the can of coffee Noya had bought him. An apology for the instant he had suffered that morning. 

“You’ll see me tomorrow,” he said quietly. “And I’ll see you.”

“It’s not the same.”

Childish. But honest, at least.

Asahi’s hands stilled.

“It’s not.”

Noya let out a slow breath. He pushed himself up. Pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead and closed his eyes, trying not to feel embarrassed for feeling.

“At least it’s not just me.”

“It’s not,” Asahi said again. “It’s definitely… definitely not.”

Asahi set the coffee aside and tugged the elastic out of his hair. He ran his fingers through the strands, scraping them up into a messy bun. Noya watched him, not caring if the people passing by thought he was weird for staring. Asahi looked historic when his eyes would narrow, his mouth set in a thin line. Noble. Like a dethroned king in a movie too complicated for Noya to really understand. A king with the weight of everything on his shoulders. Usually only happened when Asahi was concentrating on something. Adjusting his serves. Doing his hair. Making flashcards for class.

Noya reached out impulsively to tuck a strand of hair Asahi had missed behind his ear. Asahi started and gave Noya a wary look before glancing around.

“No one’s looking,” Noya promised.

Asahi raised an eyebrow and subtly pointed to a woman who was very clearly trying not to stare. Noya scrunched his nose and then blew a raspberry.

“Fine. I don’t care that anyone’s looking.”

“How bold,” Asahi said dryly. He fiddled with the strand of hair behind his ear, his lips curling up into a little smile. It faded when he glanced at his watch again.

Noya quickly covered the watch with his hand.

“Don’t.”

“…Nishinoya…”

“What if it’s fast?”

Asahi wordlessly pointed to the station clock only a few meters away.

Noya tightened his grip on Asahi’s wrist for a moment and then forced himself to let go. He grabbed Asahi’s coffee instead and took a rebellious sip. 

“I don’t want you to go.”

Asahi silently pushed the container of fries closer to Noya. 

Noya glared at him.

“Are you tryin’ to bribe me?”

Asahi’s cheeks turned pink.

“…Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “Depends if it’s working.”

Noya scowled and grabbed a fistful of fries, cramming them in his mouth.

“It isn’t,” he muttered around half-masticated potato. “I’m just gettin’ irritated.”

Asahi let out a heavy sigh.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow, I again remind you…”

“Yeah I know! I know…”

Noya swirled the rest of the coffee in the can around a few times, trying to figure out why he felt so crappy. He would see Asahi. Wouldn’t be the same, but they could still talk. Still touch, albeit even more subtly. Maybe they could sneak up onto the roof…

He handed Asahi the can of coffee.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I know I’m being a brat. Guess this weekend just spoiled me. It was really nice gettin’ to do stuff that’s… y’know. Like. Grown up stuff.” His cheeks colored and he quickly added, “I mean cookin’ and – and that sort of… domestic. Whatever. Actin’ like we live together. Not – I wouldn’t call… I’m not that much of a kid that I can’t call a handjob a handjob. That’s not what I meant by grown-up stuff.”

“Shh – Nishinoya, not so loud,” Asahi said quickly.

Noya scowled but pressed a finger to his lips. Fine. He’d be quiet. Sulky and quiet.

Asahi took the coffee and drained it in a few gulps. He set the empty can aside.

“I wish I had the courage to act like a brat,” he admitted. “So don’t apologize. And it was nice getting to do… we’ll call it ‘domestic situation’ stuff with you.” He lightly elbowed Noya’s side. “Even though the coffee was terrible.”

Noya snorted, quirking a grin at his boyfriend.

“I warned you. And role reversal much?”

“Huh? Oh.” Asahi laughed, a pleased smile on his face. “Yeah, guess so. I really am not in a position to tell you to stop apologizing, am I…”

He stood and grabbed his bag. After a few moments of trying (and failing) to be inconspicuous while scouting the area, he held out his hand for Noya.

Noya sighed but accepted the help up, even though he knew Asahi was going to let go as soon as he was on his feet. He ripped that Band-Aid off himself and let go first so he could gather their trash.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow mornin’? Think you can handle a run?”

Asahi groaned but Noya felt him cave almost instantly.

“Yeah. Since we didn’t get to go this morning.”

“Good answer.”

Noya turned and lightly prodded Asahi in the side.

“All right. Let’s go.”

Asahi grunted at the little poke but started moving in the direction of the train station.

“I really liked your family,” Asahi said absently. His hands were in his pockets as he walked. He did that a lot. Pockets in hands. He kept his eyes on the ground, usually, but now they were scanning the sky. Thoughtful. Pensive, Noya thought in a proud flash. A word he remembered from the deck of vocab Asahi had helped him make.

“I like them too,” Noya said. He threaded his fingers behind his head. “And I like you. So I’m glad you didn’t hate them or vice-versa. Would’ve made things awkward.”

Asahi laughed. Noya heard the happiness in his voice even though Asahi only responded with a diplomatic, “It would have.”

“And you like me too,” Noya said. Confident.

“Very much,” Asahi said. Soft.

Noya stopped in front of the stairs to his platform. His pockets were heavy with one hundred yen coins. They’d made too much change at the arcade. He reached in and pulled out a handful, counting them.

“So,” said Asahi.

“Tomorrow,” Noya said. He held out the coins. “Here. I owe you, remember?”

Asahi made an exasperated noise but he took the coins anyway. “I told you I’d buy you lunch, though. This kind of negates that…”

Noya waved a hand, unconcerned. He grinned and prodded Asahi in the stomach, laughing when his boyfriend let out a little squeak.

“Tomorrow,” Noya said again. Threatening this time. “Bright and early, yeah? I bet we can make it halfway up the next peak if we really push ourselves.”

Asahi frowned. He turned the coins over in his large palm. Calculating.

“We can try,” he said finally. Not what Noya had been expecting, which was a heavy sigh and nervous look. Asahi lifted his eyes from the floor to meet Noya’s gaze. He wore a tired expression. One Noya understood when the tracks above them rattled and Asahi flinched.

“…You can stay the night again?” Noya offered, pitching his voice a bit lower. Probably not a verb Asahi wanted to hear in public. Stay the night. Too telling, too adult for the school IDs in their pockets.

Asahi’s dark brown eyes flashed with surprise, embarrassment that he’d been read so easily. Resignation.

“I’d like to but I’ve still got some homework to do,” he said softly. “And if I went back with you we’d just… we’d keep doing what we’ve been doing…”

“We got some studying done,” Noya protested.

Asahi gave him a look. “Writing vocab on your… your stomach,” his voice went softer, “doesn’t really count as studying.”

“Well – but now I’ll never forget that word… that, uh…” Noya blanked.

“…Nishinoya…”

“Confounded!”

Noya crowed triumphantly and slapped Asahi’s arm. “There! Perfect. See? Miss Katayama’s gonna lose her mind.”

“Most likely, yes,” Asahi said dryly as he rubbed his arm. Noya thought they might be talking about two different mind losses but he let it go. 

“So you’ll get online when you get home, right?”

Asahi nodded and drew a little X over his heart. Noya didn’t know what that meant. He mimicked the gesture and gave Asahi a curious look.

“I promise,” Asahi explained. 

“Oh. I like it.”

“I do too.”

“It’s like. Oath taking. Slicin’ open your heart and lettin’ like – pshaww! Blood gush.”

“I – that’s a bit more, ah… dire than… yes. Sure.”

Overhead the train tracks rumbled again. Asahi glanced up at the ceiling, squinting into the fluorescent lights. Noya took a few steps forward and reached into Asahi’s front pocket. Asahi hissed in surprise but Noya ignored him, focusing on gathering up all of Suzu’s little butterfly clips. He held one up to show Asahi what he was doing. Asahi made a soft noise, lips quirking up into a smile.

“Tell her thank you,” he said quietly. “And sorry I didn’t keep them in.”

“They weren’t your style. She’ll understand,” Noya said. He pocketed the butterflies and then let out a slow breath. Right. No moping. He’d see Asahi tomorrow.

With a little groan he clutched at his heart. X. 

“I’m gonna go.”

“Oh… yes.”

“I’ve gotta force myself.”

Asahi shuffled from side to side.

“Me too.”

“Tell me to go, Asahi. Pretend like you’re my commander—”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with that level of authority…”

“Then just—ugh!”

Noya slapped his hands on his cheeks to steel himself. Without another word he turned and stormed up the stairs to the tracks. He heard Asahi call out a confused “Okay bye?”

Noya shoved his hands in his pockets, his chest aching. Stupid, stupid. This was so dumb, getting worked up over not being in the same physical place as someone. What did it matter…

“Goodbye, Asahi!” he yelled without turning around, startling a few people on the stairs with him. “I had fun today! I can’t wait to see you again!”

He could feel Asahi’s sigh of relief lightly pressing against his back.

“Goodbye, Nishinoya! I’ll text you!”

“Thank you I appreciate it! Tell your mom hi from me!”

“Okay! Tell your family thank you!”

“Okay! I can’t wait to see you again!

“I – yeah me too! Bye, Nishinoya!”

“Goodbye, Asahi!”

Noya waited for a reply. When none came he tried not to feel too disappointed. He planted himself in front of the faded green spot on the platform that marked where the train doors would open. He waited impatiently, lightly rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Without Asahi he just wanted to get home. Get some work done so his parents would see that he could have friends over and do homework. It was possible. Then maybe Asahi could stay two days next weekend…

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly fished it out. He ignored the backlog of messages he’d missed and clicked on Asahi’s.

/nishinoya./  
/nishinoya i forgot i have to take the bus. not the train./  
/i had to ask the station attendant to let me out./  
/and she’d heard us yelling back and forth./  
/she asked me to please next time not bother the other customers./  
/i couldn’t make eye contact with her. i just mumbled something and shuffled through the gate. like a criminal./  
/and the bus doesn’t come for another fifteen minutes./  
/and a couple people waiting with me were at the train station and heard us yelling and none of them will stand directly next to me. i’m ostracized./  
/do you still like me even though i may as well be a criminal./

Noya bit his lip and hugged his phone to his chest for a moment while he danced in place. Dork. What a dork, what a nerd how could someone so handsome and Pensive be such an endearing loser.

/asahi you being a criminal might just make me like you more, depending on the crime. and if the crime is ‘yelled nice stuff at departing boyfriend’ i definitely like you more./

The train pulled up and Noya hopped on, taking his favorite spot by the door. He flipped through his other messages. Lots of other messages.

His stomach sank.

Mostly from Ryū.

He clicked on the first one.

/nah it’s cool. i’m sure you’ve got distractions aplenty. you guys catch that one variety show last night though? with them building that tree fort?/  
/it was super cool. made me want to go hike into the mountains and build a tree fort. need to learn tree-forting skills first though i guess. lame./

/hey man we still getting together today? i kinda need to run something by you. not like mega serious but./  
/i invited ennoshita too. we're gonna walk to tsutaya and get that new thriller you were talking about. so if you come over and we’re not here that’s where we’re at./

/ennoshita’s here./

/you still with asahi? we’re heading to the store now. you want anything this is your last chance./

/ennoshita almost wandered into the porn section. manager got all in his face it was hilarious./  
/also he’s got a new nickname now/  
/chika/  
/he hates it. it’s great./  
/oh shit he punched me in the arm/  
/abuse abuse/  
/chika’s such a dick why are we friends with him. i guess because he’s smart and handsome and very capable. chika for captain./  
/he was reading over my shoulder. now he’s all pissy and flustered it’s great./  
/THAT’S WHAT U GET. THAT’S WHAT. U GET. CHIKA./

/we’re heading back now/

/gonna start the movie in a bit/

/lemme know when you get this. dad's gonna try making dinner and wants to know if he should make you some./

/starting the movie./

That was the last. Time stamped an hour and a half ago.

Noya checked his other messages. One from his mom that he quickly answered. He was on his way home, yes Asahi’d gotten on his bus okay.

Two from Chikara. An hour old.

/Hey, are you coming to Tanaka’s? He’s kind of worried since you aren’t answering your messages. I told him not to sweat it and explained that you probably got mauled by a wild boar on one of your ridiculously long runs and are taking your time limping over here./  
/But you should probably message him back. I don’t really know how to handle him when he’s like this./

Noya quickly hit Tanaka’s conversation and typed a reply.

/i'm so sorry i was out around the station with asahi all day. totally slipped my mind. promise i’m alive, tho. want me to head over now?/

He hit send and let his head rest against the door. There was a curve in the tracks coming up that would ensure he smacked his head hard if he didn’t move.

He stayed perfectly still. 

Three seconds later his head hit the door with a thud loud enough to make everyone look his way. He ignored them and forced himself to concentrate on the mild throbbing of his skull. It was better than whatever weird feelings were happening in his stomach. Guilt, probably. Again. He didn’t want to stare at it close enough to give it a name.

His phone buzzed and he hit the screen.

/it’s fine. see you tomorrow./

Noya stared at the text, his head hitting the door every few seconds. 

No stickers. Abrupt. Plain black text, white background. It wasn’t Ryū’s voice in the message. Noya didn’t know what to do with this person.

Frustrated, Noya jammed his phone back in his pocket.

“You could’ve just said no,” he muttered.

He stared out the window, watched as the buildings around the tracks grew shorter and shorter, their lines of laundry, balconies, window boxes longer, longer. When the train pulled into his station he let himself run on auto pilot. Followed the rainwater gutters to the temple, to the playground, to his front door. The house smelled like curry. His parents were in the kitchen, his mom leaning slightly on his dad while she absently sliced lettuce leaves into uneven strips. They were laughing, Ria brandishing the knife after a particularly bad joke, Kōyō holding up his hands in surrender.

Noya felt his shoulders grow cold. Some realization sinking into his guts as he watched his parents. He and Asahi had stood there. Oblivious to everything else, like his parents were now.

Noya turned away and headed towards his room. Suzu was curled up on a cushion in front of the TV. Taka had his homework spread out on the coffee table and was dutifully copying the characters he had to memorize. Noya left his door open – dinner smelled too good to miss, he didn’t want to isolate completely. Flipping open his laptop he checked to see if Asahi was online yet. No. Neither was Ryū.

Noya rested his chin on his desk and stared at his textbooks. Stacked up neatly, in order of how much he had left to complete for each subject. Asahi’s doing.

“Yū?”

His mother. Noya grunted and waved her over. She settled down on the tatami next to him and lightly patted his head.

“Did your friend make it home okay?”

“Dunno yet,” he mumbled. “Probably got stuck at the bread shop. He always stops there on his way home. It’s one of his many compulsions. But the lady there likes to talk to him a lot and he’s too polite to leave before she’s done chattin’.”

“Compulsions,” his mother echoed. “Really.”

“Yeah.” Noya pushed himself off his desk and glanced at his mother. “That wrong? It was one of today’s vocab words. Tried to use it…”

“No… no it’s not wrong,” Ria said, bemused. She reached out to push Noya’s hair off his forehead. He scowled but allowed the fussing. Ria frowned.

“What is it?”

“Nothin’.”

“Yū…”

“Nothin’! I think I might’ve pissed off Ryū a bit, that’s all. He’ll get over it.”

“What did you do?”

“Didn’t text him back fast enough.”

Noya thought he saw his mother roll her eyes slightly, but she said a very diplomatic, “That does sound egregious.”

“What?”

“Oh dear. Was that not one of your vocab words?”

Noya scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Mom…”

Ria pushed herself to her feet.

“Come on, Mr. Scowl. Dinner time.”

“I’m not scowlin’!” Noya protested as he followed his mother.

“Oh, no, you very much are,” Ria said. She lightly nudged Suzu with her foot as she passed. Suzu swiped at her leg but did drag herself over to the table. Taka whined when he was pulled away from his homework. Noya went to the kitchen sink first to splash some water on his face before he sat down. The rest of his family started talking about next weekend’s plans – maybe going cherry picking if Ria could get out of work early enough, and if the cherries were ready – and Noya was content to eat in silence. He could hear his phone buzzing in his room but his mom had a strict rule about phones at the table. He finished quickly and washed his dishes, which earned him a pat on the back from his dad, before he grabbed his phone and retreated into the bathroom. He sat down on the washer (crammed in next to the sink – their house was too small sometimes) and turned on his phone. No messages from Ryū. But Asahi was home.

/sorry… stopped by the bread shop and Mrs. Hamada wouldn’t stop talking… i got you something i’ll bring for breakfast tomorrow. hopefully it’ll still be good… did you have dinner?/

Noya’s lips twitched up into a smile.

/yeah, curry. dad keeps buying the super spicy kind, says it’s better for us. taka's whole face gets red. it's pretty cute. and thanks for bread-thinking. i’m sure it’ll be good. about to hop into the bath, then i'll be on./

Noya set aside his phone and got into the shower. He barely remembered to shut the door behind him. He scrubbed his hair, forgoing a soak in the interest of time. 

He let his towel drape around his shoulders as he flopped in front of his computer, ignoring the warnings from his mother about lounging around the cooling house with wet hair.

Three messages on his phone.

/i'll hop in the bath too. hang on./  
/done. do i bathe too quickly. sometimes i feel like i'm splashing water around in an unproductive sort of way./  
/i'm on, doing homework. probably going to sleep soon, though./

Noya checked his messenger list. No Ryū. No Chikara either.

Noya clicked on Asahi’s icon.

/hey./

It took a few minutes for Asahi to reply. Noya grabbed a comic book in the meantime and leafed through it until his computer dinged.

/heu./  
/hey, sorry/  
/fell asleep/

Noya set aside the book.

/so go to bed. if you do, though, i expect you to have extra energy tomorrow morning!/

/ugh/  
/i mean/  
/okay. i'll sleep./  
/please don’t be upset./  
/that ‘ugh’ wasn’t aimed at running. or anything we do together. just more at. everything else. the world./

/you shouldn’t ugh the world, asahi. but i get it./

Noya glanced at his phone.

/hey did ryū message you by any chance./

/tanaka? no. i don’t think he even has my number. why?/

/no reason. you should go sleep now./

/all right./  
/is everything okay with you guys?/  
/i don’t know how to ask that without sounding nosy…/

Noya stared at the question. Saw the dodge and almost took it.

/you’re not nosy. you're concerned. i think./

His fingers hesitated on the keys.

/he says it’s fine. so i'm gonna go with that. i'll talk to him tomorrow and even if it’s not, it will be. don't worry./

/okay. thanks again for having me over. i had a good time. did you give suzu her butterflies back?/

/not yet, thanks for reminding me. i'll do that tomorrow. but SLEEP ASAHI SLEEP i'm gonna hit the hay too. futon's so big now without your enormous self taking up most of it./

/enormous…/

/it’s a good enormous./

/if you say so./

/i do. night, asahi./

/goodnight, nishinoya. see you in a few hours./

Asahi’s icon faded as he signed off.

Noya stared glumly at the icon. It was a picture of a crack in a rock and one of those climby things you used so you didn’t fall off the rope. Asahi had told him the technical name several times but Noya could never remember what it was. Asahi had taken the picture during a climb. Noya suspected it might have been on a climb with what’s-his-name, but Asahi liked the picture so Noya wasn’t going to throw a fit about it.

He checked one more time to see if Ryū was online. When he saw that his icon was also faded (a picture of Ryū’s favorite Power Ranger), Noya signed out and shut down his computer. He’d ask Ryū what was up tomorrow. May as well sleep. Especially if he was going to be pushing himself and Asahi over another half a mountain on their run.

Lights off, he dragged his futon out and kicked it roughly into shape before settling down. He tugged the covers up over his head. The pillow case still smelled like Asahi a bit. Whatever shampoo he used.

Noya curled up into a ball on his side, face pressed awkwardly into the pillow. The suffocation was distracting him from things that weren’t worth thinking about. Silent phones and faded Power Rangers. Didn’t matter. It’d get worked out.

With a heavy sigh Noya wrapped his arms around himself and let his mind drift to Asahi instead. He wished they were older, if only so they could be on their own. He’d been joking about the love hotel, but. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Asahi could pass for old enough. And maybe if he met Asahi there later, or Asahi let him in… His parents weren’t that dumb, though. His mom had gotten Asahi’s mom’s number. She’d call and check to see if he was there. And when he wasn’t there would be hell to pay. Might not be worth it.

Noya forced himself to close his eyes. If he concentrated really, really hard, he could feel Asahi’s hand on his hip. The weight of his palm. Brush of his thumb over his hip bones.

Noya shuddered and rolled over onto his stomach, letting the feeling fade away. He’d never get to sleep otherwise.

Morning brought dew and cold. Noya woke up shivering. He must have opened the veranda door during the night. Fucking sleepwalking. He hadn’t done that since he was a kid.

Noya managed to extract himself from the covers after a few minutes of battling the cold. He was running late. Had to forgo his normal hair routine. He shoved the gel in his bag instead and was out the door in five minutes. Asahi was waiting for him at the station, for once. He looked especially tired, but smiled and gave Noya a shy kiss in greeting. They set off for the mountains, shedding their jackets after the first forty minutes. They ran past the monastery gate, behind the shrines in the back. Up a new path they’d discovered but hadn’t ventured far along. The cold that had seeped into Noya’s bones in the night wasn’t leaving. He felt achy. There was a stitch in his side that was starting to be a problem he couldn’t distract himself from.

As they turned a corner onto a set of steps – old, crumbling things – Noya’s feet stopped. He hadn’t told them to. Asahi continued on for a few paces but then stopped as well. He turned and stared down at Noya, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Nishinoya?”

He jogged down the few steps to close the gap between them.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Noya shook his head. He pressed a hand against his side.

“Stitch,” he explained.

Asahi’s eyes softened in sympathy.

“Want to head back?” Asahi glanced up at the lightening sky. “We probably should soon, anyway…” He held out his hand, a hopeful smile on his face. “No monks around to judge us,” he said quietly. “If you want.”

Noya grabbed on to Asahi’s fingers and turned to start walking back down the path. 

“I feel pathetic,” he muttered. “Stoppin’ because of a stitch.”

“We got farther today than we ever have,” Asahi pointed out, his voice slightly nervous. “You can go a little easier on yourself.”

“You could’ve kept goin’, though.”

Asahi fell silent for a few painful steps before he said quietly, “Are you okay, Nishinoya?”

Noya frowned at the question. He’d just told Asahi it was only a stitch.

“I didn’t twist my ankle or anythin’—”

“No – no, not that… you seem… ah…” Asahi cleared his throat. “Tense.”

Tense. Maybe that’s why he had the stitch. Wasn’t breathing properly…

“Did you sleep well? And your hand… your hand is pretty cold… you could put your jacket back on?”

“I’m fine,” Noya said immediately. The word made him flinch. Fine. 

“All right.”

Asahi fell quiet and it took Noya a moment to realize Asahi’s silence meant he was irritated. Once they were back on the level ground of the monastery entrance Noya tilted his head back to stare up at him.

“…I can put my jacket on if it’s that big a deal.”

“Huh? Oh.” Asahi’s cheeks turned red and he shook his head. “It’s fine. Sorry.”

Noya flinched at the word again. Fine. Fine, why was that—

“Ah – I mean I’m not – I’m not sorry,” Asahi said quickly, misinterpreting Noya’s reaction.

Noya wordlessly tugged his jacket back on and took Asahi’s hand again. He thought of his phone stashed in his bag in the locker. When he’d woken up that morning he’d found that at some point during the night, in addition to opening the veranda doors, he’d turned his phone off. It was still off. Hiding inside his bag.

He let go of Asahi’s hand and resumed jogging. Not worth thinking about. Not worth worrying about things that weren’t worth thinking about. 

Asahi fell into pace beside him. They made record time back down to the foot of the mountain, which made Noya feel a little better. So did the chocolate croissant thing Asahi offered him. It still tasted good. As he reassured his boyfriend many, many times.

And it was fine. It was good, even. Walking to school, laughing as Asahi bemoaned how hard he’d already worked, how terrible practice was going to be. Noya was so wrapped up in teasing Asahi he didn’t notice that the rest of the team had arrived until Coach Ukai called them over. He ended up on the opposite side of the huddle as Chikara and Ryū, who were elbowing one another in the ribs. Noya managed to catch Ryū’s eyes and gave him a grin and a little wave, not wanting to disrupt whatever Coach was saying. Ryū’s eyes widened slightly, but he grinned back and pointed to Chikara, mouthing very clearly, “Chika.” Which earned him a punch in the ribs.

Noya let out a little breath, relaxing. Fine. That’s what fine meant, after all. 

A little tap to his shoulder made Noya focus on Ukai again. He cast Daichi (who had done the tapping) an apologetic look and Daichi had nodded back in return. He looked exhausted too.

Practice was the perfect sort of grueling. And it ran late too. Noya barely had time to catch his breath before the warning bell for classes rang. He cast a longing look at Asahi, but his boyfriend had already been accosted by the other third years and was being dragged out of the gym. Chikara and Ryū were also hurrying out in a mad dash to get to the club room to change into their uniforms. Noya followed them, eavesdropping on bits of their conversation. Ryū finally noticed him and was kind enough to fill him in on the bits of the movie he’d missed. Too much romantic subtext. That was the takeaway.

They parted ways in front of the classrooms, Chikara promising in his normal, dry way that he would do his best to make it down to the cafeteria to buy the melon breads he owed Tanaka. Noya almost asked Ryū what kind of bet Chikara had lost to incur such a heavy punishment when the chimes sounded again. Ryū swore and took off down the hall, his bag nearly hitting him as he took the sharp turn into the classroom. Noya made a mental note to ask him at lunch and ducked into his own classroom.

Class was disturbingly pleasant. He even got a pop question right in English. Probably because Asahi had been tutoring him. By the time lunch came around all associations of fine and cold and stitches had left. Crushed by the victory of answering a question about the subju… sub… subjugation? That didn’t sound right. Whatever.

Noya grabbed his lunch out of his bag and snuck his phone into his lap as well. The little light was glowing blue. Message.

He clicked it open. From Asahi.

/hey, are we eating on the roof?/  
/i ask because i may have already told daichi and suga that i am…/  
/and am already on the roof…/  
/it’s kind of chilly…/  
/which isn’t meant to guilt you! just an observation./  
/but please do tell me if you’re coming./  
/soon./  
/thank you./

Noya fought back a grin and sent Asahi a flurry of stickers to convey his amusement. Asahi just sent back his usual one in return. A crying sea lion. Noya rolled his eyes affectionately and resorted to words.

/be up in five./

Before he could leave, though, a few well-intentioned classmates came by his desk. They all wanted to shake his hand and congratulate him on his correct answer. He did indulge a few of them but it quickly became overwhelming (and he was starting to suspect that they might be mocking him…). He quickly extracted himself, lunch in hand, and made a beeline for the open door. 

And nearly ran into Ryū. 

“Ah.”

Ryū raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah?”

“Ah…”

Ryū’s eyes flicked down to fix on Noya’s lunchbox – tucked hastily under his arm – and then met his gaze again. Noya’s insides tightened when Ryū’s expression registered. Fight or flight response. 

“Thought we were eating here today?” Ryū asked. He sounded like he had more to say but felt it didn’t need to actually come into word existence. 

Noya racked his brain. Had they said that? At some point? Between bemoaning the melodrama and the melon bread, had they made plans?

“You don’t remember.”

Ryū’s voice startled him out of his brain panning. 

“I – yeah, guess not,” Noya said. “Sorry to flake. Asahi just messaged me and I was gonna go meet him on the roof. You wanna come too? We—”

“No, thank you.”

The immediate, formal reply hung between them. Suspended. Noya watched it sway back and forth, its spider-thread string creaking softly. 

He tested his words first to make sure they weren’t going to sever it. Seemed alright.

He gave Ryū a little smile. Cautiously friendly.

“Okay. You don’t have to.”

Ryū’s jaw tensed. His teeth clacked together. The shockwave rent the thread in two. Down. Down down.

“Yes, thank you,” he said tersely. “I’m well aware of what I am and am not obliged to do. Enjoy your lunch.”

Ryū turned on his heel and headed back down the hallway. His back was ramrod straight. 

Noya stared at the severed thread, its frayed edges catching dust motes. 

He darted back to leave his lunch on his desk and then took off after his friend.

“Ryū – hang on a sec!”

“No, thank you.”

Curt. Polite.

Noya felt his temper start to twist his guts.

“Ryū – dammit hold up!”

Ryū came to a sudden stop in the middle of the hallway. There was a group of girls walking towards them. Laughing. The girl in front – a first year Noya vaguely recognized – glanced up at Ryū as they approached. Her eyes immediately widened. She grabbed the other girls’ arms and tugged them aside, avoiding Ryū. Like he was a pit trap. Viper. 

Noya stopped a few steps behind him. He waited impatiently for the nervous girls to leave. The moment they were gone he let his tongue say what it wanted.

“If you’ve got a problem with Asahi, Ryū, just say it.”

Ryū’s shoulders tensed. Noya felt a surge of cold triumph. Stupid. This was so stupid, what was it, was it the ace thing? Ryū’d get it next year it was so obvious why the hell was he holding a weird grudge about it—

Ryū glanced over his shoulder, a mystified, furious expression twisting the corners of his eyes. His lips.

“I’ve got no problem with Asahi,” he said. No longer polite, too terse to be polite. He snorted and turned back around to continue walking. Noya caught the muttered words.

“Figures you’d look everywhere else before lookin’ at yourself.”

It hurt. Made the hairs on Noya’s arms prickle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. Shouldn’t you be headin’ for the roof? Stairs are that way.”

“Asahi can wait,” Noya said, jogging to catch up with Ryū. “Tell me what’s goin’—”

Ryū suddenly stopped. He turned to stare down at Noya, a look of surprise on his face.

“Holy shit,” he said. As though an amazing truth had dawned on him. “Holy fuckin’ shit. You actually – you really don’t get it. Not even when it comes to him.”

“Get what?” Noya asked, actively struggling to keep his temper now. “If you’ve got somethin’ you need to say, Ryū, fuckin’ say it. If it’s not Asahi then what?”

“I’m not goin’ to yell at you in a fuckin’ hallway,” Ryū said, turning back around. “That’s more your thing, right?”

The words slammed into Noya’s veins. Hijacking.

“It’s not my ‘thing’ – let’s go outside then and just – whatever! Get it over with, I don’t care!”

Ryū’s fingers twitched and Noya knew he’d hit a nerve. Without another word Ryū picked up the pace, heading for the stairs. Down, down, past chattering first years, teachers with tobacco-stained fingers. The courtyard was quiet. Dead still in the little pocket in the wall, next to the chemistry room windows that refused to open.

Ryū turned. His arms were crossed.

“So I really have to spell it out for you?”

Noya stopped a few feet away from Ryū, realizing distractedly that his hands were empty. He must have left his phone on his desk too. Great. Probably would be confiscated. Another mark on his record.

“If that’ll help? Just – hurry up, okay? You can punch me or whatever if you’re mad and we can get it over with.”

Ryū’s lip pulled up into a grimace.

“I’m not gonna punch you – what is with you and violent confrontation?”

“I’m not violent I just – I hate this, so hurry up,” Noya snapped. “Asahi’s waitin’, so—”

“Would you shut up about him for two fuckin’ seconds?!”

A burst of vicious triumph that Noya hated. He felt himself take a step closer to Ryū.

“So this is about Asahi.”

“Are you seriously that dumb?!” Ryū snapped, his voice bordering on a yell, now. “It’s about you, you complete, utter jackass! And you’re makin’ me yell!” He made a frustrated noise and scrubbed at his head.

“What about me?” Noya said tersely. Dumb. Ryū had never called him dumb before. It had always been a hand on his shoulder when the red circled number said less than twenty. Ice cream when it said less than ten. Quiet, listening. Joking when the listening was over. Never dumb.

“It’s about how your boyfriend’s waitin’ up on the fuckin’ roof for you and it didn’t even cross your mind to send him a message lettin’ him know you were talkin’ to me!” Ryū suddenly exploded. He took a step forward, his hand slapping against his chest in one, booming noise. “It’s about how I’ve got about fifty conversations on my phone with you that end with me askin’ a question and you respondin’ two days later with a picture of a dog you and Asahi spotted at the park or some other bullshit that’s not an answer! And it’s about how – fuck I hate this, I hate how he looks at you and you just – you made him do that! He’s all different now, you weren’t even friends before and you practically quit the team for him! And now he can’t stop lookin’ at you and you keep lookin’ at him even when you’re talkin’ to me and I don’t get it, why you two always have to be alone together! It’s not like you don’t see him every fuckin’ day in club or anythin’! Or message him constantly when we’re playin’ a game or watchin’ somethin’! You’re never with me anymore even when you’re standin’ right in front of me! The people you want in that moment are there and everyone else may as well not exist! Do you get – does even some small piece of you get why that’s fucked up?!”

Noya listened to the charges with as much patience as he could but each one bashed into his head stronger, stronger with how much of a lie it was.

“Except for this weekend I’ve invited you to hang out every time with me and Asahi,” he snapped. Remembered, amended. “Almost every time, anyway, so yeah I guess I don’t get it because it’s not fuckin’ true!”

“Almost every time,” Ryū echoed, his voice shaking. “Almost every time. Nishinoya the last time you asked me to hang out with you and Asahi was like a month and a half ago!”

“No it wasn’t,” Noya said stubbornly. “The other day, after practice—”

“Fine, a month ago, then.”

Noya fell silent. Thinking. Had it really been a month. Couldn’t have been. He counted the weekends on his fingers, silently, subtly so Ryū wouldn’t be able to tell. Five of them between now and the other day, after practice.

He let out a quick breath.

All right.

If that’s what it was then all right.

“Sorry.”

He scrubbed at his face. 

“Sorry, Ryū. You’re right, I didn’t – I wasn’t tryin’ to but that probably doesn’t make a difference.”

A long, tense moment. Then he heard Ryū sigh. Saw the clouds of dust his feet kicked up as he moved forward.

“No, I’m – you’re dumb with this stuff. I knew it wasn’t on purpose. I knew, it just – …it sucks.”

Dumb. Again. Chikara’s word for him, during their study sessions. But it sounded different coming out of Ryū’s mouth, in Ryū’s voice. Noya bit back his irritation. He was in the wrong. He could handle it.

He gave a tense nod, still not looking up. He couldn’t. And knew Ryū couldn’t either. There was something suspended between them again. Thicker than spiders-thread rope this time. Holding something heavier.

“It’s – you know, like. My dad.” Ryū’s voice again, the terseness in his words was back. “He broke his leg a couple weeks ago. Hit his head pretty bad too. Had to get a bunch of scans – he passed out on the steps, so. Overworkin’ himself, nothin’ serious but – I was gonna tell you. I should’ve but every time I tried to bring it up you’d start talkin’ about somethin’ Asahi did or said or your plans for the weekend or you’d make me look at his pictures or whatever and like – I wanna be supportive, you know? Since you guys aren’t tellin’ anyone else. So.”

“If it’s that much of a problem you don’t have to be supportive,” Noya said, the news about Ryū’s dad making him feel cold and very, very small. “You can tell me to cut it out.”

“I am tellin’ you to cut it out.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“That’s what I’m doin’ right fuckin’ now and you’re fightin’ back. Like Jesus Christ I’m sorry I’m takin’ time away from you makin’ out with your boyfriend on the roof time to talk about my dad’s broken leg and how fucked the restaurant is right now ’cause he can’t stand up for long.”

“You’re makin’ me sound like I’m doin’ this on purpose –”

“You’re kinda doin’ shit on purpose now, aren’t you?”

“But this is – with Asahi, it’s important!” Noya made a frustrated noise and lifted his head. Ryū’s expression was icy. Noya didn’t want to spare the momentum to stop and course correct.

“It’s important,” he insisted, latching on to the one thing he knew was true and could forgive himself for. “And I’m sorry about your dad – I’m really, really sorry about your dad and I’m glad he’s okay. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around and I’m sorry I’ve been a dick about messagin’ stuff but all of that can be fixed! Like –now, even! It doesn’t have to be a big deal but Asahi – Asahi is a big deal. It’s not like with you and Kiyoko, it’s real and it’s kind of high stakes and I think I might be—”

“Wait – wait, wait,” Ryū interrupted. “What do you mean like me and Kiyoko?”

Noya waved a hand.

“You know like – how we’re just messin’ around or whatever. I mean she’s perfect, so there’s no way anythin’ would actually happen between you and her, or her and me, obviously, like—”

“I’m not messin’ around.”

Noya shut up. Watched the monstrous thing between them swing slowly back and forth. Ryū obviously couldn’t see it. He was staring through it at Noya. Nostrils flared, face red. Hurt and livid.

“I’m not messin’ around,” Ryū repeated. “And I didn’t think you were either.”

“What – Ryū, come on,” Noya said, trying to keep his voice light. “It’s Kiyoko. We had crushes on her last year or whatever but I mean. We both know it’s not real. Not like—”

“Like what, like you and Asahi?” Ryū said. He took another step forward. “Like you two and your super secret super special relationship? Because I’m not good enough for her? Because when I say I like someone it’s a joke but when you say it the whole world’s gotta stop and pay attention?!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Noya started to say, but Ryū took another step forward and the thing swayed, its rope creaking and the thing dripping venom.

“But you meant it!”

Another step. The corner of the wall pressed against Noya’s back.

“You know I’ve been hung up on her – you know I like her! And you just – you threw it in my face what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I thought we were just playin’ around – I didn’t know—”

“Yes you did! You knew and you said it anyway because that’s what you do, right, Nishinoya? You tell your version of the truth even when people don’t want to hear it – even when they don’t need to hear it! You don’t care if it hurts because they need to know, right?! They need to know how wrong and stupid and cowardly they are and so you tell them your truth and make them into what you think they should be. It’s what you did to Asahi – you fuckin’ crushed him when he was already down and still you keep messin’ with him and tellin’ him shit no one ever needs to hear just because he’s not good enough for you! He’s not good enough but he’s interestin’ or easily manipulated or whatever so you tell him what you think he needs to hear, what you think’ll change him and the only reason he puts up with it, the only reason he came back is because he’s fuckin’ obsessed with you! He’s a fuckin’ masochist and – fuck you two do deserve each other! He’s the only one who’d ever put up with how fuckin’ controllin’ you are!”

Something in Noya’s gut twisted. Inside out, spilling acid on itself. He wasn’t sure it would ever go back.

He opened his mouth, started to argue with Ryū, to agree, he didn’t know. He knew what Ryū would want him to say. Apologize, end it. Wash out the venom in the wounds and let the thing stay there, suspended, hoping it would grow smaller. And it probably would – it probably would shrivel up and die if he just apologized, if he just 

Lied.

His hand moved. Shoving Ryū back. Plaster of the wall no longer digging into his skin, he took a step forward.

“Don’t talk about Asahi like that!”

Ryū stumbled. Caught himself quickly and looked up with fury in his eyes.

“That’s what makes you mad?!” he snarled. “Me callin’ Asahi what he is?! Not me, not my dad, not my family’s entire fuckin’ livelihood, not your own fucked up sense of what’s normal— but Asahi, yeah Asahi and your fuckin’ utopia of a relationship, that’s worth lettin’ everythin’ else fuckin’ rot, right?”

Noya buried his fingers in his hair to keep from lashing out again. End. End he just wanted this to end but he couldn’t say it, he couldn’t apologize it would be a lie he’d already said what he was sorry for he wouldn’t ruin that—

“This doesn’t have to mean anythin’!” Noya snapped. “It could’ve stopped – Just let me apologize for bein’ a shitty friend and we can move on—”

“That’s the whole goddamn point!”

Noya’s head cracked against the wall. Fireworks in his vision, venom green, pop pop pop. His ears were ringing and he could still hear the seconds-old slam of Ryu’s fist against his jaw. Echoing. Ryū’s face was red. His eyes were white, shining and furious. 

“It means somethin’ to me, Nishinoya! You were my best friend and my life’s kind of fuckin’ sucked for the past month and you’ve been nowhere but with him! I’ve done everythin’ but break down and cry in front of you and still I’m not even a blip on your radar! Why should I have to fight for you?! Why should I have to be like him to get your attention?!”

Ryū took a step back. His arms shaking.

“You really think that everyone in the world’s like Asahi. That they’ll all come crawlin’ back no matter what you do or say because you know what matters. You know what’s right. But I know somethin’ you don’t, Nishinoya.”

Ryū shook out his hand. Turned to leave.

“I know you’re wrong.”

Noya forced his eyes to stay open. Listened to the soft crunch of sand and soil under Ryū’s tread. Soft, softer, softest. The thing between them lay on the ground, its rope snapped and frayed. Bleeding a sickly, vile liquid onto their footprints.

Carefully, carefully Noya pushed himself away from the wall. For a moment he thought he was going to puke but a few deep breaths and it passed. He experimentally moved his jaw. It cracked. It hurt.

The bell rang signaling five minutes to the end of lunch.

Noya slowly made his way back inside. People started when they got a look at his face. Quickly hurried away. Grabbed someone else and started whispering.

Right.

Right. This was familiar.

He slid open the door to his classroom and took his seat. His lunchbox was there. Still wrapped. Phone was gone. A note in its place explaining he could come by the faculty office after school to pick it up. Katayama’s painfully neat handwriting that made each character look like it was being repressed.

“—probably gonna get suspended again—”

“—could hear the yelling from the courtyard.”

“Seriously, what’s his issue.”

The bell rang again. Mr. Eiguchi had to yell at them to focus.

Noya stared straight ahead. Watched Eiguchi scrawl all over the board, dates and names he’d never remember. 

He moved his jaw. It cracked. Loud like the chalk splintering under impatient fingers.

History. Physical science. Literature. 

The bell rang for end of day. He went to the faculty room. Let Katayama yell at him. She asked about his jaw. He wordlessly pointed towards the gym. Conveniently towards the corner too, where he and Ryū had talked. Not a lie. She seemed to accept the silent explanation.

His phone glowed blue in her hand. New messages.

The strike on his record didn’t matter. His parents would get a call, the next parent teacher meeting would be a little tense.

Noya checked his phone as he headed towards the club room. Five messages. One from his mom, the rest from Asahi.

/Yū, would you mind picking up something for dinner on the way home? Your dad and I have to go to a mixer thing for one of my new clients who has too much money. We should be home by nine./

/hey are you still coming up to the roof? if not that’s okay./  
/nishinoya? everything okay?/  
/a crow landed a few feet away from me. it was really startling. i think it was after my karaage chicken. either that or it wanted to be friends… now i feel bad for shooing it away. when will i stop personifying animals, nishinoya./  
/okay i guess something came up? that or your phone got confiscated. either way i’ll see you at practice. i hope you’re okay. please let me know that you are when you can./

Noya quickly replied to his mom (a simple “sure”) and then stared at Asahi’s messages. He should respond. Asahi was probably worried. But he’d want an okay. An emphatic yes, everything’s fine.

/phone got confiscated. sorry. see you in a bit./

It didn’t sound like him. Asahi would know. He’d know and because Noya had trained him to not ask, Asahi wouldn’t. He’d let it quietly fester, force himself to wait, wait for it, for the moment when Noya gave the okay, that he was ready to talk. He was probably sick to his stomach from anxiety, Asahi. Tended to think the worst if people didn’t respond right away. He was working on that, though, because it bothered Noya to see him get all stressed out about stupid shit like the immediacy of replies. The massive leap into mental headspace where everyone hated him. Self-deprecation, chronic apologies. 

Noya stopped in front of the club room door.

He could hear Tsukishima and Shōyō talking. Surprisingly normal conversation. Kageyama joining in. Suga.

Noya waited long enough to make sure that they were the only ones in the room before he opened the door and headed inside. Luckily Tsukishima said something snide two seconds after he entered that was distraction enough to let him change in peace.

In the gym the net was already set up and Ukai was barking at them to begin warm up drills. They were working on sprints and dives. Noya’s specialty. He was called up several times to demonstrate. His silence was taken for concentration, his bruise for a bad fall he took early on in practice, although Asahi shot him worried glances every now and then. Ryū didn’t look at him at all.

Halfway through practice Ukai laid down the usual rule. If one person fell below a certain time, they’d have to start the drill over. Noya kept his head down and kept up, glad that everyone was focusing so hard on not being the weakest link that there was no time to talk or joke around. When practice ended they all trudged wordlessly up to the club room, too exhausted to speak. Daichi halfheartedly suggested stopping by the shop but Suga vetoed him immediately. The resulting back and forth was enough to keep everyone’s attention and Noya slipped out quietly. 

Ryū and Chikara had been laughing.

Noya shoved his hands in his pocket and picked up the pace. Sweat drying on his forehead made him shiver. His head was throbbing. Less his jaw. More the back of his head. Ryū probably hadn’t punched him all that hard. The wall had done more damage. Explained why no one had pressed him to explain more. The bruise must not be that obvious.

“Noya!”

Shōyō.

Noya turned around, kept walking backwards. The younger boy was sprinting towards him – energy still left, somehow.

“Noya! Wait a second, please!”

“I am waitin’,” Noya pointed out. “Gotta hurry home, Mom gave me an errand.” Not a lie. Not a lie, not a bad truth either.

Shōyō slowed to a walk as he approached.

“Noya, can we do extra practice tomorrow morning? I still can’t get the – the slide with… you know, like – when you phwoom! With one arm out? I keep landing on my wrist funny.”

Extra practice. With just Shōyō, it would be fine. 

“Maybe. Just you?”

Shōyō nodded, his auburn hair bouncing around like a thing possessed.

“Kageyama’s already got it down,” Shōyō muttered. “You saw that save he made that… it was pretty cool. Although it hurts to admit it.”

Noya didn’t say anything. He hadn’t seen Kageyama’s save. The final scrimmage he’d been on Asahi’s team and had been too focused on staying out of his line of sight without royally fucking up the match.

Shōyō let out a heavy breath and opened his mouth to say something else, but then he frowned and glanced about twenty centimeters above Noya’s head.

“Is Asahi not with you today?”

Noya followed his gaze. Clear night. Couple stars already out.

“Guess not,” he said mildly. “You wanna meet fifteen minutes before practice tomorrow? That enough time?”

“I think so,” Shōyō said. He gnawed on his lip for a moment and then said hesitantly, “Is – are you all right, Noya? You seem um.” Shōyō furrowed his brow. “Intense.”

Noya turned around and waved a hand over his shoulder. They’d reached the school gate.

“Intense feels about right. See you tomorrow, Shōyō.”

“Oh – o-okay. Thank you!”

Heavy scratch of gravel as Shōyō turned around and sprinted back to the club room. It hurt Noya’s ears.

He shoved his hands in his pockets again and headed for the train station. Grocery store, then home. He could bribe Taka and Suzu into silence with snacks and microwave pizza.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Message from Asahi.

/are we still going to the store?/

Another buzz.

/hinata just told me you left. is everything all right?/

/yeah, sorry. mom needs me to run an errand. should’ve told you. i’m helping shōyō tomorrow morning so we’ll have to cut our run short./

His phone didn’t buzz again until he was paying for the small mountain of pizza and cheese curls he’d picked up for dinner. He waited to read it until he was outside, food slung over his back.

/that’s fine. do you want to talk tonight? we were halfway through watching that mario let’s play. the one with the green mushroom?/

The one Ryū had found. That he’d showed Noya, insisted he had to watch it because it was hysterical.

Noya shoved his phone in his pocket. Walked faster.

He didn’t respond until he was home. Both siblings had asked about his jaw. He’d told them not to worry about it, so they didn’t. Taka clung to Noya’s leg as he shuffled around the kitchen, microwaving things and dumping other things into bowls. Suzu was watching television and pretending to do her homework. Noya leaned against the counter while the microwave whirled and responded to Asahi.

/not tonight, sorry. gotta watch the sibs./

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, but Asahi’s reply was almost immediate. Noya could picture him sitting in bed, a pillow clutched against his chest. Eyes trained on his screen.

Masochist.

Noya started listening to whatever Taka was babbling about to distract himself. Asahi would’ve replied that fast no matter who it was. He hated keeping people waiting. Because he was polite, that was all.

On the couch, his dinner (a bottle of cider) in his hand, Noya finally looked at his phone.

/are you sure you’re okay? sorry to ask so many times… i should trust you more./

A spike of anger, misdirected. Noya closed his eyes, took a little breath. Asahi was allowed to say sorry. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted. 

/just having dinner with taka and suz. parents will be home in forty five, we can talk then if you’re still worried./

A longer pause between replies. Noya sipped at his cider, pointed out a few places where Suzu got her characters wrong on her homework. His phone buzzed at quarter to nine.

/i am. sorry, i don’t mean to be but you’re not answering my questions, you’re just giving me information that’s kind of shallow./

Annoyance. Noya could read it in Asahi’s words. Explained the long pause. 

It oddly made him feel better. A masochist wouldn’t get annoyed.

/then ok. i'm gonna take a bath then get suz and taka into bed. i'll get on after that./

/alright. thanks. tell them hi for me./

Noya snorted quietly and put his phone back in his pocket. He ruffled Taka’s hair.

“Asahi says hi. To you too, Suz.”

“Hi, Mr. Asahi,” Suzu dutifully replied, not looking up from her homework.

“Hi,” Taka said softly. It was clear from his voice he was already drifting off. 

Noya sighed and lightly prodded his siblings.

“Teeth,” he ordered.

Suzu started to whine but Noya kept prodding her until finally she scuttled away, hissing loudly. Taka followed her, his bare feet padding sleepily across the floor. Noya waited until he heard the water in the upstairs bathroom running before he quickly showered and then headed upstairs to make sure his siblings were in bed. They weren’t (Suzu was hiding in her closet playing DS and Taka had passed out on the area rug in his room), but the front door opened, signaling the end of babysitting duties.

Noya headed back downstairs and was greeted by his father.

“Thanks for looking after the runts, Yū,” Kōyō said tiredly. He pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead before shuffling into the kitchen.

Ria was talking on her phone with someone, her foot jammed between the front door and the frame to keep it from shutting. She spotted Noya and gave him a little smile, holding up a finger to let him know she’d be inside in a bit. Noya nodded and then headed into the kitchen as well.

“I’m gonna go get some work done,” he told his father, wanting to retreat before either of his parents asked about the slight bruising on his face. Kōyō was rummaging around in the fridge, (politely ignoring the non-combustibles garbage now overflowing with empty snack bags), but looked up as his son spoke. There was a frown on his face, and Noya saw the question before it was even voiced.

“You okay, Yū?”

Noya shrugged and ducked his head. “Long day,” was all he said, and then pointed to a few new bruises on his arms. Hopefully they would all seem related. His father hissed in sympathy.

“Your mom’s going to be ticked,” Kōyō warned, returning to scouring the fridge.

“Ticked about what?” Ria said, appearing at the door. She frowned at her husband and lightly kicked the backs of his knees. “Why are you rooting around in the fridge? We just spent several hours eating.”

“Portions for fancy stuff are always way too small,” Kōyō muttered. When Ria kicked him again he let out an overly dramatic “ow!” that made her roll her eyes. She glanced at Noya, one eyebrow raised.

“So why am I going to be ticked?”

Noya wordlessly showed her his new bruises. She clicked her tongue, unimpressed.

“And you’re sure this is what you want to be doing with your time?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m sure,” Noya muttered, not in the mood for an interrogation. “Suz and Taka are upstairs, teeth brushed but I doubt they did anything else.”

“All right. Thanks, Yū.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“One moment.”

Noya froze. He knew that tone. Interrogation.

He gave his room one last look before turning around. Ria was standing behind the couch, arms crossed over her chest. She was studying him quietly. Her gaze slightly sad.

“Yū… is everything all right?”

Gentle interrogation. Noya relaxed a bit.

“Long day,” he said again, but Ria immediately frowned and he knew that reply wasn’t going to work with her.

“I didn’t ask how long your day was. Are you all right,” she said again. “Did something happen at school?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you get suspended again?”

“What – no, Mom! I didn’t get suspended,” Noya snapped. “Where the hell’d you get that idea?”

“You’re acting just like you did then. It was a logical conclusion to come to,” Ria said. “And watch your tone.”

Noya pressed a hand against his face, trying to calm down before he really did snap. His jaw hurt. His head hurt, he wanted to sleep.

“Well I didn’t,” he muttered. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Yū!”

“What?!” Noya yelled. “What, Mom?! Are we done?! Can I go to bed or are you gonna keep grillin’ me until you hear whatever it is you wanna hear?!”

“The latter,” Ria said sharply. “And keep your voice down. The whole neighborhood can hear you.”

Noya rolled his eyes but fell quiet and stubborn. Fine. Whatever.

Ria pointed at the couch and Noya sat, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Ria—” Kōyō started to say, but Ria interrupted him with a terse, “I know.” Kōyō let out a little sigh. He sat down next to Noya and moved a bit closer.

“We can tell something’s bothering you,” Kōyō said gently. “And keeping stuff in’s not always the best. Remember Misako? In kindergarten?”

A girl who had picked on him. He hadn’t said anything. Ended up chipping one of his teeth when she pushed him off the slide.

“That was a lifetime ago,” Noya muttered. He stared at the coffee table. “I’m not that dumb anymore. Nothing like that’s happenin’ now.”

Kōyō’s gaze softened. He wordlessly pressed his hand against Noya’s jaw. Noya flinched but didn’t say anything.

“Yū.” His mother’s voice was stern. Worried. “Is that one from practice?”

A direct question. One he couldn’t dodge.

Noya blinked a drop of water out of his eyes. Shook his head.

Ria sighed.

“Did you start the fight?”

Noya stared at the coffee table. His dad’s hand was on his shoulder. He wanted it off but didn’t want to have to move. Every time he moved it felt too much. Like everything was made of sandpaper.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe. It was my fault, so… I guess.”

“Who were you fighting with? Do you need ice? Did you get the school nurse to take a look at it?”

Noya flinched at the bombardment. His dad wasn’t as good at asking pointed questions intentionally, but he asked a lot.

“No ice. No nurse,” Noya said. “My pupils are dilating fine and I didn’t throw up or anythin’ so… I don’t know. It’s probably fine.”

“Who were you fighting with, Yū?” Ria asked again.

I know you’re wrong.

Noya’s fingers tightened around his arms. His head hurt. His chest hurt. There was still venom in his throat.

“Ryū.”

He felt his parents exchange glances.

“I wonder if it’s because of Mr. Tanaka…”

“Maki did say Ryūnosuke was having trouble.”

“What were you fighting about, Yū?” Kōyō asked. Even gentler. Like Noya was made of glass.

“He hasn’t been over lately,” Ria said. Noya lifted his head. His mother was staring off into the distance. He could see her putting the pieces together. Her eyes flicked over to his room and her frown deepened. “For about a month.”

Noya pushed his wet hair off his forehead. Offered up a silent, resigned apology to Asahi.

“We were fightin’ about me and Asahi. I think.”

Both his parents fell silent. In that silence, he felt them come to the same conclusion. His father’s hand tightened slightly on his shoulder. Comforting or restricting. Difficult to tell.

“Are you and Mr. Azumane dating?”

His mother didn’t know how to be anything but blunt.

Noya tugged his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. He was so tired. His jaw clicked one. Two. His head hurt. Hit the wall one. Two.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

One. Two.

“For how long.”

Noya sighed but did the mental math. Failed.

“Couple months. I dunno, he knows when we started going out.”

“Does Mrs. Azumane know?”

Noya thought about Mrs. Azumane. Staying on the first floor whenever they were together in Asahi’s room.

“Maybe.” He pressed his forehead against his knees. “Asahi doesn’t want to tell her.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell us?”

Noya bristled a bit at that. Fought back the urge to explode.

One. Two.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he muttered. “Asahi didn’t want to. And if I told you then you wouldn’t have let him stay over.”

“So you lied to us.”

Noya lifted his head and stared at his mother. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. Her cheeks were slightly red.

“I didn’t lie to you,” Noya said. “You didn’t ask.”

He felt his father laugh, soft and tired.

“He has us there, Ria,” Kōyō said quietly. Ria’s expression didn’t relax.

“You didn’t tell us because you know we wouldn’t have let you two sleep in the same room if we’d known,” Ria said sharply.

Noya didn’t say anything.

Ria made a frustrated noise.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered. She tugged at a lock of her short hair. “Well at least we know now. I’ll call Mrs. Azumane tomorrow and let her know.”

“What – why?!” Noya said, staring at his mother. She stared back, unimpressed.

“Why? For the same reason you chose not to tell us,” she said coldly. “You’re not the adult here, Yū. You don’t get to decide—”

“Do you not like him? Is that it?” Noya demanded. “You wouldn’t stop houndin’ him the whole time he was here. Is it ‘cause he’s a guy?”

Ria pursed her lips. Noya could see her calculating. Picking her words via some algorithm too complicated for any normal person to understand. Robotic.

“I have no issue with Mr. Azumane’s gender.”

“So you’ve got an issue with somethin’ else.”

His mother’s silence let him know he was right.

Noya stood, too agitated to stay still. Too much everything. God today had been too much already and now more.

“What is it? What’s wrong with him?” he snapped. “Is he not good enough?”

“No,” Ria said bluntly. “He’s not.”

“Ria—” Kōyō started to say, peacemaking and soft. Noya was too angry for calm.

“Why not?!” he demanded. His head hurt. His jaw hurt his eyes hurt, they stung like the concrete digging into his skull. “What’s wrong with Asahi?! He’s nice to me, he works hard, he—”

“You’re acting like a child,” Ria interrupted. “It really isn’t helping your case.”

“I’m not a case, Mom! Tell me what’s wrong with Asahi!”

“Oh for – he’s not even in a college prep track!” Ria snapped, pushing herself to her feet. “He’s not doing vocational school, he doesn’t seem to be doing anything productive with his club activities, he has no future plans he can articulate. You struggled so hard to get into high school, Yū – do you want to waste all of that, endanger your future, your reputation, your career for something so short lived? The only reason your father and I are still letting you do club is because your middle school coach said you might be able to make a career out of it and you promised us that you were going to try this time! Does this look like trying to you? Wasting your free time playing video games and dating someone who—”

“Who what?!” Noya yelled, too furious now to think, to hurt. “Who’s as stupid as me in school?! Who’d rather have fun and try hard at stuff he likes than waste his life studying?!”

“Someone who you’ll forget in ten years!” Ria said in clear exasperation. “You’re in high school, Yū! This isn’t one of your – your action films or your video games. This is real life and the two years you have left have consequences. Potentially severe ones and if you don’t pull yourself together now and start taking this seriously—”

She stopped talking. Her eyes widened. She took a slight step forward. Reached out.

“Yū… oh sweetie, I’m sorry—”

Noya pushed her hand away. He could feel his cheeks stinging. His throat was tight. Made it hard to speak. 

Kōyō stood as well, his expression soft. ““Your mother and I just want you to do well and to have an easy life like we couldn’t,” he said gently. “I know that what you’re feeling right now feels real and it might be, but you have to ask yourself if it’s worth it. High school’s one thing but the world outside’s not so kind. Your mother’s just trying to help—”

“No she isn’t!” Noya said. The words caught in his throat. They tasted venomous but he couldn’t stop them. “She isn’t she said he’s not good enough she said I’d forget Asahi—”

“Most of us do forget – Yū, kiddo, you’ve gotta calm down, the neighbors can hear—”

“Fuck the neighbors!”

“Yū!”

His mother’s voice made the house fall still, save for few creaks from upstairs. Signs that Taka and Suzu were probably listening. Years of skirmishes, clashes like these telling them to stay upstairs. Out of the line of fire.

Noya swiped his hand across his eyes, shame twisting his gut. His siblings shouldn’t have to hear this. Taka would be crying. He always cried until Suzu snuck into his room and distracted him.

He couldn’t do this to them.

Noya turned and went into his room. He grabbed his bag, his phone.

“What are you doing?”

Noya ignored his mother. He shouldered his bag and darted out into the living room, through the altar half of his room. His mother made a little noise of alarm.

“Kōyō—!”

“Yū, calm down. Let’s just take a moment and—”

Noya ignored them. Made it to the front door, shoved his feet in his shoes. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder and he jerked away.

“Don’t touch me!”

He turned around, taking in the look of hurt on his father’s worn face. His mother hovering in the doorway. Tense and unhappy. Two sets of eyes peering down from the top of the stairs. Bloodshot from crying.

Noya tightened his grip around his bag. Familiar again. Like the looks on his classmates’ faces, the scrape of concrete against his head. 

“Maybe giving up Asahi would my serious consequence,” he said. His voice was shaking. It made him sound too young. He hated it. “You don’t know that.”

Ria narrowed her eyes. Kōyō said a quiet, warning, “Ria…” but it did little good.

“As if you do.”

Blunt. Made the incision hurt worse.

Noya yanked open the door. He slammed it shut behind him, cutting off Suzu’s little cry of “Yū!”

It broke his heart. Made the pieces of it rattle around in his rib cage as his feet tore into the pavement. The little cry that morphed into a scream inside his head.

The front door might have opened behind him. It might have stayed shut. He left too quickly to tell. The two possibilities stayed with him. Dug in deeper with every slam of his heels against concrete. Endless possibilities. The road stretching out dark in front of him, on and on until it plunged into the ocean.

He passed by the park. Its lights were off. He could just barely make out the blue of the penguin slide, tucked in the back next to a small grove of trees. Its paint was chipped and you could hardly tell what it was supposed to be anymore. Underneath the slide was pitch black. 

Noya’s steps slowed and he stared at the empty space, cold and slightly afraid.

There was something there, in the emptiness. Something childish and primal in its infancy. Simple, that promised temporary solitude, the length of which depended on the possibilities. Did the door open or not. Were there footsteps on the pavement behind him or just tricks of his mind. The pitch black empty space he was scared look at head on. Dark like the ocean at the end of the road.

It was tempting, the thought of solitude. It’s what he always did, after all. Where he went until things could be put back in order again. Made up how he needed them to be, what he knew, what was right and just had to wait for the rest of everything to agree.

I know you’re wrong.

Anger welled up inside of him. Simple and quiet like solitude, but not as complicated. He clutched it to his chest, grateful, and abandoned thoughts of hiding. He started running again. It was the only thing that could slam that door shut. Keep it locked. He wasn’t a kid anymore there was too much in his head for quiet and stillness to pummel it all into submission. Had to run. Somewhere far enough down the road until the hurt in his body could make all thought in his mind stop.

But what if it wasn’t enough.

Panic started to well up inside of him. The anger couldn’t completely burn it away.

What if running wasn’t enough, isolation not enough. The sun would rise and he’d have to be normal, have to go to school , to club god maybe he should’ve gotten suspended. But then he’d have to be home.

He needed to hide, but not alone. And his anger was fizzling out, dampened by the stinging in his eyes, his sister’s crying in his head. His mother’s face his father’s hand on his shoulder. Ryū’s voice. Asahi’s fear.

Asahi.

He slipped a bit on the gravel as he changed direction. Headed for the bright lights of the small downtown.

The train station and bus stops were busy enough that no one paid him any attention. People returning to their homes after working extra hours. All tired, indifferent. They still had work in the morning. Still had worked all that day. They streamed around him as he stared at the bus map. It was faded in places. He couldn’t remember the stop. Just the number twelve.

He sat down on the bench to wait and closed his eyes. The fluorescent lights hurt. 

He opened them again at the rumbling of an engine. 

Twelve.

He got on. Sat in the back and watched the people leave one by one. They ignored him like he was transparent. Scraped out. Not even a cyborg like his mother with a robot brain he could flick on and off. Care, not care. Argue, be quiet. Be right, be wrong.

Noya pressed his hand against the bruise on his jaw. His head thrummed with pain again, and anger too, but it was quiet. It wasn’t enough. 

One by one the people left until it was just him and the mountains growing close. 

He couldn’t remember the name of the stop. But he did recognize the white stone streets. The shops with their picture signs.

Cold air made his cheeks sting as he stepped off the bus. It took him a moment to get his bearings but then he spotted the hill.

The shops were quiet, too. A few bars and cafes down some side streets painted the walls with their warm glow. A few distant voices, indistinct. 

There weren’t many lights on the street up the hill. A couple street lamps here and there. Noya slipped several times, his ratty trainers catching on loose stones that jutted out of the street like uneven teeth. 

Up at the top it was quieter and darker still. He followed the curve of the road, small signs he recognized even in his exhaustion.

The yellow of Asahi’s house stood out in the dark. Large bay windows showed a dim interior. No curtains drawn to mask it. The light was on in Mrs. Azumane’s study.

For a while Noya stood in the road and watched the house. The gate was shut. The door was shut. The only thing that moved and breathed life into the house was the lights. Changing rooms. Flicking on and off. Bright. Dark.

Noya glanced over his shoulder. At the road that stretched back into the trees and down the mountain.

He could wait. Outside he could wait with just himself. Morning would come, as it always did, and he could tell Asahi he’d come to surprise him.

A lie.

Yeah but a little one.

Still a lie.

Noya pressed a hand against his face. His shoulders were shaking. His head hurt. His anger had long ago bled out onto the rough upholstery of the bus seat. The door in his head was slowly opening, and there was something there in the emptiness. Something he was too afraid of to look at directly.

Possibilities of the unknown.

It was cold.

The light in Mrs. Azumane’s study went out.

Noya’s body moved automatically. Panic.

He got the gate open on the second try. The latch always did stick. He stumbled up the front step and pressed his finger against the buzzer. A pause. The lights flicked back on. He could feel the rumble of the floorboards as Mrs. Azumane approached.

The latched clicked, and the door slid open.

Mrs. Azumane stood in the doorway. Her large, owlish eyes blinked slowly as she regarded him, waiting and patiently silent.

Noya’s lip trembled. He fought to speak. Needed words but the stinging in his eyes, on his cheeks in his throat. He was afraid to speak. It would make them real.

Mrs. Azumane cocked her head to the side, studied him for a moment longer, and then said in her distant, airy way, “I’ll go fetch Asahi.” 

She left the door open as she turned around. The blackness in the depths of the house soon ate up the colors in her robes.

Noya waited on the porch, scrubbing at his face when it started to itch. 

He could still leave.

He glanced behind him towards the road.

He could still leave.

The house shook. The sound of bare feet against hundred year old floorboards was painfully loud in the quiet night.

Asahi came to a stop in the doorway. His face was flushed. Damp hair plastered to his forehead, his cheeks. A towel thrown hastily around his neck. His pajama pants – the one with the rip in the leg, Noya remembered – hung low on his hips. The elastic hastily bunched up.

“Nishinoya!”

Asahi pushed the door open wide. His brown eyes were huge. Terrified, beautiful.

“Nishinoya – what…”

“Asahi.”

Asahi fell quiet. Stared down at Noya, his broad shoulders trembling from the damp air seeping into the house, against his bare skin.

Noya took a step forward. Another, the toes of his shoes hitting the back of the porch.

“Asahi.”

I know you’re wrong.

Noya pressed the heel of his palm against his eye. Spots exploded in half of his vision. Venom green, bright white, blue. He stared up at Asahi, the spots bleeding over into what he could see.

“A-Asahi…”

The name was half a cry now. The half that was venom green, that was his insides turned inside out and they wouldn’t go back.

“It’s all right, Nishinoya.” Asahi’s voice, deep and calm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Noya bit back a sob and shook his head.

I know you’re wrong.

I know you’re wrong, it was all he could think all he could hear. Just that and Suzu’s little cry, his father’s face, his mother disappointed and disgusted. He was a terrible son a terrible brother a terrible friend, Mr. Tanaka so many long messages he hadn’t bothered to read, was his name buried somewhere in one of them 

Noya stared up at Asahi. Feeling strange and empty. Like he should be able to see through the hand pressing his eye back into his skull.

He let out a shuddering breath, his voice thick with snot and tears and the cold, damp air.

“Asahi, do you love me?”

Asahi blinked. Surprised. 

Noya stood there, scraped empty, tears trailing silently down his face, his palm, and watched Asahi through his one eye. Saw the changes flit across Asahi’s face. His brown eyes softened. Pink dusted his cheeks for a moment. Faded, warm, warm warm.

A soft hand drew him inside. Arms wrapped around him until all he could hear was Asahi’s heartbeat. Feel the firmness, the solidness of his chest. Smell the shampoo that still clung to his hair.

“Very much,” Asahi said quietly. 

Yū pressed his face against Asahi’s chest. His body gave a wracking sob, the strength of it mortifying him more than he could put into words. Relief was there, but its voice was quiet. What was loudest was horror, drawn from the realization that isolation was no longer an option available to him. That letting Asahi close meant more than just a label, a past time, a different presence to be in. It was deep. Sunk into his chest, carving out a little spot that he couldn’t patch himself. Asahi had to do it. Was the only one who could.

He’d had to ask the question. He needed to hear it, to put worth in something. To fill it. Make it solid again. It had to be Asahi and it was terrifying. The weight of part of himself held in the hands of someone else. Completely out of his control. 

Yū squeezed his eyes shut, the spots dancing in front of his eyes. Green and blue. The air cold at his back.

All Asahi did was tighten his arms and bow his head, his chest thundering with his heartbeat. The rest of him was quiet to let Yū cry. Quiet like the house, door flung wide open to spill its light out into the darkened, wild garden.


End file.
